The political status of the Negro in the age of FDR 9780226080284, 9780226080277, 9780226080291

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
Author's Preface (page vii)
Editor's Introduction (page xi)
A Note on the Editing (page xxxi)
PART ONE. The Political Status of the Negro: A Commentary
1. The American Political Scene (page 3)
2. The Historical Background (page 10)
3. Politics in the Contemporary South (page 24)
4. Restrictions on Voting in the South (page 47)
5. The Negro in Contemporary Politics (page 69)
6. Conclusion (page 103)
PART TWO. The Political Status of the Negro: A Survey Based on Field Interviews and Special Reports
7. Aspects of the Southern Political Process (page 121)
8. Southern White Attitudes toward Politics (page 181)
9. Voter Registration in the South (page 216)
10. Negro Registration (page 253)
11. The Poll Tax (page 328)
12. The Negro at the Polls: The Inner South (page 384)
13. The Negro at the Polls: The Outer South (page 438)
14. Negro Voting in Selected Southern Cities (page 477)
15. Negro Voting in AAA Cotton Referenda (page 505)
16. Some Notes on Republican Politics in the South (page 516)
17. Southern Negroes and the Rewards of Politics (page 547)
18. Negro Political Activity in the North (page 572)
19. Negroes and the New Deal Agencies (page 608)
Bibliography (page 633)
Index (page 669)

Citation preview

The Political Status of the Negro in the Age of FDR THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS DOCUMENTS IN AMERICAN HISTORY A Series Edited by Arthur Mann

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RALPH J. BUNCHE

The Political Status of the Negro in the Age of FDR Edited and with an Introduction by DEWEY W. GRANTHAM

The Political Status of the Negro in the Age of FDR is a Carnegie-Myrdal report emphasizing the American South.

The photographs shown in this book were taken by various photographers for the Farm Security Administration during the 1930s and were supplied through the courtesy of the Library of Congress, Department of Prints and Photographs. The photographer and negative number for each — picture are as follows: Frontispiece, Jack Delano, LC-USF 34-44616-D Chap. 1, Marion Post Wolcott, LC-USF 3330570-M3 Chap. 8, “Oliver” [?], LC-USZ 62-3118 Chap. 4, Dorothea Lange, LC-USF 34-9596-C Chap. 5, Lange LC-USF 34-19848-E Chap. 6, Lange, LC-USF 34-9572-C Chap. 7, Lange, LC-USF 34-18220-E Chap. 8, Walker Evans, LC-USF 342-8147-A Chap. 9, Wolcott, LC-USF 34-52688-D Chap. 10, Evans, LC-USF 342-8074-A Chap.

11, Delano, LC-USF 34-46275-D Chap. 12, Delano, LC-USF 33-20539-M5 Chap. 13, Ben Shahn, LC-USF 336055-M2 Chap. 14, Russell Lee, LC-USF 33-11692-M1

Chap. 15, Wolcott, LC-USF 33-30626-M3 Chap. 16, Lange, LC-USF 34-17335 Chap. 17, Wolcott, LC-USF 34-

52678-D Chap. 18, Delano, LC-USF 34-441970 Chap. 19, Arthur Rothstein, LC-USW 3-4476.

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS, CHICAGO 60637 THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS, LTD., LONDON

© 1973 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. Published 1973 Printed in the United States of America International Standard Book Number: 0—226—08028—5 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 72—96327

Contents

Author’s Preface vit Editor’s Introduction xi A Note on the Editing XXXI ParT ONE. The Political Status of the Negro: A Commentary

1. The American Political Scene 3 2. The Historical Background 10 3. Politics in the Contemporary South 24 4. Restrictions on Voting in the South 47 3. The Negroin Contemporary Politics 69

‘6. Conclusion 103

Part Two. The Political Status of the Negro: A Survey Based on Field Interviews and Special Reports

7. Aspects of the Southern Political Process 121 8. Southern White Attitudes toward Politics 18] 9. Voter Registration in the South 216

10. Negro Registration 253 11. The Poll Tax 328 12. The Negro at the Polls: The Inner South 384 13. The Negro at the Polls: The Outer South 438 14. Negro Voting in Selected Southern Cities 477 V

vi CONTENTS 15. Negro Voting in AAA Cotton Referenda 505 16. Some Notes on Republican Politics in the South 516 17. Southern Negroes and the Rewards of Politics 547 18. Negro Political Activity in the North O12 19. Negroes and the New Deal Agencies 608

Bibliography 633

Index 669

),

Author’s Preface

IT must be emphasized at the outset that this memorandum is not a finished product. What is here set down is merely a first draft, designed to make available as much of the material at

hand as possible, and to indicate roughly the essential approaches to the subject. For these reasons the field materials, as primary source materials, have been liberally, perhaps too liberally, employed. Had time permitted, I would have presented less of the field material itself, and more of its analysis. In the latter months of the study, the necessity for meeting deadlines

has overshadowed what would seem to me to be the fundamentally important objective of sound, carefully worked out,

substantive study. Some effort has been made to summarize the important points and to indicate the main trends. It will appear, perhaps, that secondary sources have been ig-

nored to an alarming extent. This has been in part deliberate

and in part unavoidable. Except for the historical treatment, | there is a paucity of worthwhile published analyses of Negro political status, especially for the South. The limits of time were such that we had to make some choices, whether these were desired or not. I chose, therefore, to lean heavily upon the fresher

field materials rather than to attempt to rehash what little has been written on the subject. The Negro in politics has remained a virgin field for research, and thus assembled data of all kinds are at a premium. We have, nevertheless, gotten what I consider to be some very

useful materials. These are not, as I think they should be, the products of intensive work, since the field workers were permitvil

Vili AUTHOR'S PREFACE ted to spend only a short time in each locality, but they do give a sort of over-all view of the situation. The great task has been that of attempting, within a very short period, to put together the diverse materials at hand. The subject of Negro political status is extremely wide in scope and, if it is to be treated at all compre-

hensively, requires a great deal more time than I have had for the task. The result here produced is a terribly hurried, poorly integrated, and roughly written job. There has been no opportunity to check references. There has been no time for prolonged

reflection on any of the points involved or the issues raised in

this memorandum.

Many things that we had hoped to do have been left undone or are very superficially treated here. To mention but a few: 1. A statistical analysis of Negro voting in selected Northern cities, based upon analysis of population and election returns data. 2. An intensive analysis of the shift in Negro political preference from Republican to Democratic in selected cities. 3. Statistical estimates of the extent of Negro voting based on a careful check of all available sources. We have no careful calculations of the extent of Negro voting. This is such a huge job that it has not been possible for use to tackle it on a national scale. We have had to rely solely upon hit-and-miss estimates which were already available, tempered by whatever other information we could easily lay our hands upon. But such data could not be employed as the basis of any earnest correlations. 4. An analysis of the relationship between the collection of poll taxes and the intensity of political campaigns in selected counties. o. A compilation of secondary data for counties in which intensive political analysis might be made—covering such matters as income, property, landholding, tenancy, literacy, education, union organization, and other relevant subjects—as a vital backdrop for the political analyses. 6. A careful appraisal of the quality of Southern representation in state legislatures and Congress. 7. A thorough investigation of the effect of the development of unionization in Southern communities upon white attitudes toward Negro political participation, and upon that participation itself.

8. A careful analysis of Southern liberalism and its effect upon Negro political status in the South. 9. An inquiry into the extent and nature of the relationship

AUTHOR'S PREFACE 1x between Negro political activity and vice in Northern urban centers.

10. A careful appraisal of Negro political leadership based upon assembled data. I feel it necessary to include a word of acknowledgment and appreciation for the fine cooperation extended to me by the field workers— Wilhelmina Jackson, George Stoney, and James

Jackson—and my assistant, William J. Bryant. Miss Jackson and Mr. Stoney did especially fine work under difficult circumstances, because of the extreme press of time and the wide scope

in both subject matter and territory which their field investigations embraced. Stoney’s interviews with Southern county officials have been invaluable; without these frank expressions by one Southerner to another, the picture we attempt to portray here would be woefully incomplete. Mr. Bryant was a loyal fellow-sufferer from beginning to end; he gave unstintingly of his time and energy, and at this hour of 5:45 on the morning of the last day of the project, he is steadily at work, though his vacation—a vacation that he will now never know—was to have begun two weeks ago.

Ralph J. Bunche Howard University 31 August 1940

BLANK PAGE

~ Editor’s Introduction

I

LATE in the summer of 1938 a young social economist affiliated with the University of Stockholm sailed from his native Sweden for the United States. He had embarked upon what would prove

to be a momentous enterprise: to become director of “a comprehensive study of the Negro in the United States, to be undertaken in a wholly objective and dispassionate way as a social __ phenomenon.” The project resulted in the publication of An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy (1944 )—two large volumes, containing 1,024 pages of text in 45 chapters and 462 pages of introductions, appendixes, notes, and bibliography. Its impact was immediate and farreaching. The eminent sociologist Robert S. Lynd described it as “the most penetrating and important book on our contemporary

American civilization that has been written.” Another distinguished scholar, Rupert B. Vance, has pointed out that the work represented a new trend: the impact of modern research organization developed in the United States on the tradition of the foreign observer and such famous commentaries as those of de Tocqueville and Lord Bryce. The foreign observer in this case was Gunnar Myrdal, an in-

ternationally known scholar and successor to Gustav Cassel in the chair of social economics at the University of Stockholm. Myrdal was a close observer of the American scene. He had 1. Gunnar Myrdal, with the assistance of Richard Sterner and Arnold Rose, An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy, 2 vols. (New York, 1944), 1:ix. Xi

xii EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION earlier spent a year in the United States as a Fellow of the Spelman Fund, and he traveled extensively in this country during the three years which he spent working on An American Dilemma while on this side of the Atlantic. He wrote, and was solely responsible for, the final report. Yet the work was truly a cooperative study, authorized and financed by the Carnegie Corporation of New York, employing six top staff members to assist Myrdal, thirty-one independent workers outside of the staff, thirty-six assistants to the staff members and outside collaborators, a corps of secretaries and typists, and some fifty experts who acted as consultants. Myrdal’s most important sources were forty-four monographs (comprising about 15,000 typewrit-

ten pages ) which were largely prepared by authorities outside his staff. Nine of these memoranda have been published; the others are now located in the Schomburg Collection of the New York Public Library.

One of the American scholars who contributed most as a

member of the Myrdal research team was a young Negro political scientist named Ralph Johnson Bunche. At the time Bunche joined the Carnegie-Myrdal project, he was a thirty-four year old professor at Howard University who had already demonstrated unusual ability and great promise as a student of race relations and international affairs. He had written a Ph.D. dissertation at Harvard on colonial administration in French West Africa. He had traveled and studied in Europe, Africa, and Southeast Asia under fellowships from the Rosenwald Fund and the Social Science Research Council. Bunche was a dynamic, knowledgeable,

and fair-minded scholar, a man of great personal charm and savoir faire, with an intuitive grasp of racial complexities in America. The possibilities of the Myrdal study excited his imagination, and he joined it enthusiastically. He helped shape the re-

search design for the work, and, as one of the half-dozen staff members, he was intimately involved in the investigation from early 1939 to the end of the summer of 1940. He was the author

of four of the forty-four research monographs, the most sub- | stantial of which was “The Political Status of the Negro.” Bunche’s memorandum on politics was strongly influenced by his own experience as an American Negro and by his scholarly interest in such questions as Negro improvement organiza2. Bunche’s other memoranda were “Conceptions and Ideologies of the Negro Problem,” “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, and Achievements of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” and “A Brief and Tentative Analysis of Negro Leadership.”

EDITORS INTRODUCTION Xili tions and the impact of the New Deal on black people and other disadvantaged groups. But a large part of the raw material that

} found its way into his lengthy memorandum came from the field notes on hundreds of interviews conducted with whites and blacks. Some of these interviews were carried out by Myrdal and Bunche, who made an automobile tour of the South in the aut-

umn of 1939. Their reception in the Deep South during that memorable trip was not always friendly. They left one Georgia town in a hurry when the local sheriff warned: “You folks are goin’ around insultin’ people by askin’ them fool questions? You'd better get outta town before I run you in.” On another occasion they were forced to flee from an irate band of Alabam-

ians, who followed them in an automobile and fired a gun at them !3

Most of the interviews were conducted by Bunche’s assistants

in the fall of 1939 and the first half of 1940. The first to begin was Wilhemina Jackson, a Howard student, who moved through the South Atlantic states from Virginia to Florida, interviewing many Negroes and some whites. Another of the interviewers was James E. Jackson, who had earlier worked in the labor movement. He traveled from Virginia to Tennessee, and then to Arkansas, Kentucky, Mississippi, Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Missouri. The third of the interviewers was George C. Stoney, a recent graduate of the University of North Carolina who had been working at the Henry Street Settlement in New York. He concentrated his field work in Alabama, Georgia, and

South Carolina. Stoney, the only white member of the group, made a special point of talking with local officials. He conducted about half of all of the interviews.

The interviewers were given a rough itinerary and a list of counties to visit, but, once in the field, they were largely dependent upon their own resources in making contacts, unearthing data, and deciding whom to interview. Stoney had earlier toured the South in search of material for a series of stories he wrote for the Raleigh News and Observer. As an interviewer for Bunche, his technique was to visit the office of the local newspaper when he first arrived in a community, to acquaint himself with recent elections by reading extensively in the back files of the paper, and then to search out the public officials, including the members of the election commission. As a result of his 3. J. Alvin Kugelmass, Ralph J. Bunche: Fighter for Peace (New

York, 1952), pp. 89-91.

XIV EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION research, he frequently found that he had more “facts” about the local situation than the people he interviewed. He made notes during his interviews and prepared a report on each person he questioned. Stoney thought of his investigations as “county and precinct studies,” and he sought to gather as much demographic

data, illustrative newspaper stories, and other information as possible. After finishing his interviews in Putnam County, Georgia, he added a note to Bunche: “So much attention was given to the political views of the Justices of the Peace because I want to show the kind of men who are in control of precinct politics. These men, as you can tell, have absolute power over the polls.”®

The heart of the reports prepared by Stoney and the other interviewers was their interview notes. Stoney in particular had a remarkable talent for reproducing the language he heard, for spotting the revealing comment and the vivid expression. An open, friendly, and engaging young man, he seemed to know how to approach all manner of people, to make them feel comfortable in his presence, and to get them to talk freely. Although

he remembers being threatened (as was James Jackson) on two occasions, he was never harmed. He soon discovered that when he talked with Southerners individually, they had plenty of complaints about politics and gcvernment; but that they would not voice these complaints as readily or tell him the same story when he talked with them in groups. Stoney’s reports were filled with interesting vignettes and the personal experiences of ordinary people. They often contained a touch of humor. In reporting on his visit to Six Mile, South Carolina, for instance, he told of his efforts to locate a Republican physician in the community. “I never found him, or any other Republican,” he wrote, “though I went on a number of wild goose chases.” When he entered one “dingy junk-shop of a store” in Greene County, Ala-

bama, the young and embittered proprietor greeted him by demanding: “Who are you looking for?” When Stoney had explained his mission, the merchant exclaimed, “Hell, what’s there to see around here but cows and niggers?” Since most of the field notes on these interviews are not avail-

able, it is impossible to determine how many individuals were questioned in connection with the project. A tabulation of the references in “The Political Status of the Negro” provides a figure 4, Interview with George C. Stoney, New York City, 9 June 1971. 5. Undated field report in Stoney’s possession.

EDITORS INTRODUCTION XV of approximately 550 persons, but the total was undoubtedly much larger than that, since Bunche was selective in his use of the interview material. A breakdown of the references to interviews in the memorandum reveals that some 342 whites and 208 Negroes were questioned. The geographical distribution of persons interviewed shows Alabama with 148, Georgia with 118, South Carolina with 92, and North Carolina with 53. There were fewer interviews in Virginia, Florida, and Texas, while Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas were largely ignored, as were the border states. Only a handful of interviews was carried out in Northern cities. While the interviews were in progress, Bunche spent considerable time in Myrdal’s New York headquarters working on a variety of tasks. He was concerned not only with the Negro’s place in politics, but also with Negro organizations, leadership, and ideology, and he wrote reports on all of these subjects. Form-

ulating the various memoranda was an awesome assignment, and meeting Myrdal’s deadline of 1 September, 1940, for the

completion of all research monographs seemed altogether im- | possible. “The Political Status of the Negro”—the longest of the four Bunche memoranda—was the last to be finished, and it was completed only by dint of round-the-clock labor during the late summer of 1940. Using the limited secondary material that ex-

isted at that time and relying heavily upon the copious field notes of his assistants, Bunche dictated for hour after hour during those hectic August days. _. In its original form, “The Political Status of the Negro” ran to 1,660 typed pages divided into 19 chapters, 3 appendixes, and

a bibliography. The first part of the memorandum contains a lengthy section on the American political tradition and the historical background for the study of the Negro’s political condition in modern times. Then there are chapters on the Southern political process, registration procedures in the South, the white primary, and the poll tax; on Negro registration, the Negro at

the Southern polls, Negro voting in the Agricultural Adjustment 3 Administration’s (AAA) cotton referenda, Negroes in Atlanta and in Memphis, the Negro as an issue in Southern politics, and benefits derived from Negro political activity in the South; on Republican politics in the Southern states; on liberalism in the

south; on Negro political involvement in the North; and on black officeholders in the federal government. The memorandum was not a finished product, as Bunche was careful to point out in the preface he wrote in 1940. It was rather

XVi EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION “a terribly hurried, poorly integrated, and roughly written job.” Frankly, the author remarked with some exasperation, the pro-

cedure he and his assistants followed had been “quite mad.” Meeting rigid deadlines had been made a fetish, and the keynote had been “pell-mell, headlong, furious production.” Conse-

quently, there had been little time for reflection and analysis. The great task had been “that of attempting, within a very short period, to put together the diverse materials at hand.” The Howard professor noted that little scholarly work had been done on the Negro in American politics, but he was still somewhat apolo-

getic about the inclusion of so much primary material in the memorandum. Yet, ironically, it was his skillful use of the field notes that made his report an extraordinary document. II

The subtitle that Bunche added to “The Political Status of the Negro” tells a good deal about the work’s fundamental character. It reads: “With Emphasis on the South and Comparative Treat-

ment of the ‘Poor White.” In his comprehensive consideration of Southern politics, Bunche singled out three salient features of political affairs south of the Potomac: (1) the looseness and corruption of political practices; (2) the extent of the disfranchisement of both Negroes and whites; and (3) the lack of effective reform movements at the grass-roots level. The memo-

randum gave only limited attention to Negroes in Northern and Midwestern politics. The Bunche report contains voluminous testimony concern-

ing the inefficient, unfair, and fraudulent conduct of elections in the Southern states. Election officers were frequently ignorant of their duties, and they were sometimes dishonest. Registration

lists were poorly kept, usually inaccurate, and often padded. The purging of the voting lists was a hit-or-miss process. There was little if any state supervision of voter registration. Enrollment for primary elections, except in the case of Negroes, was extremely informal. A member of the local enrollment committee in a South Carolina community observed that all he did was

to take the enrollment book when the chairman of the party brought it to his drugstore, where the registration occurred, spread it out on his counter, and keep the pencil sharp! In most cases, the rules required that a registrant sign in person, but in practice a person was frequently allowed to sign for other members of his family and for the sick and disabled. Nevertheless, some registration boards took their jobs seriously. One registrar

EDITORS INTRODUCTION XVvii declared that he liked to think of registration as “a kind of quality test” and that people “ought to have certain responsibilities.” But there was much evidence to support the comment of a registrar in Coffee County, Alabama: “The sentiment’s against re-

fusing to register a man [white and Democratic] unless he’s plumb out crazy.” The registrar in the South, Bunche concluded, was seldom an obstacle to would-be white voters. A registration officer in Lee County, Alabama, observed, in referring to the various constitu-

tional tests in that state: “We [have] never used any of those things against a white man. I'll just be honest with you.” On the other hand, the chairman of the board of registrars in Beaufort County, South Carolina, asserted that literacy and property tests were strictly enforced in his locality. “We do that to keep down the niggers,” he confessed. The tax collector of Macon County, Georgia, who registered all voters in that civil division, expressed

shock at the suggestion that in other Georgia counties people were registered without having to make a personal appearance. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “If it was that way, I could put a couple of hundred people’s names down on the books myself, pay up their poll taxes, and haul them in and get elected to anything

| I wanted to.”

The Bunche memorandum called attention to the widespread absence of a secret ballot in Southern elections. Voting booths frequently were not employed and sometimes tables were not even provided. Many voters had to have their ballots marked for them, thereby opening the door to fraud and improper interfer-

ence by election officials. Such voters would often say to the clerk, after indicating their choices among a few of the candidates, “You fill in the rest.” Election officers and others were able to use the numbers on ballots to check on the way people voted.

In some precincts the man who wanted to sell his ballot would let one of the officials see him mark his ticket. If he marked it right, he was given a “little blue bead” (or perhaps a poker chip )

which he then exchanged for the sale price. Absentee ballots were another source of election irregularities, and in some cases the candidates themselves were allowed to call for such votes. There was a close connection between the misuse of the ballot

and county (and municipal) political machines in the South. According to Bunche, “Votes are controlled and checked by registration slips, the ‘chain letter’ system, vote buying, poll tax pay-

ment, double voting, vote stealing, ‘counting out’ unfortunate candidates, employment of ‘agents’ to sign up voters, and many

XViii EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION variations of these methods.” When a new board of registrars assumed office in Chatham County, Georgia, in 1936, it found that the “ring” had padded the voting list with hundreds of dead and removed persons for whom it was continuing to pay poll taxes. The registrars in Jefferson County, Alabama, were said to

have struck the names of two thousand deceased people in a recent purge of the voting roll. The political machines themselves were frequently beholden to powerful business interests, which also followed questionable tactics in some elections. Vote

buying was so widespread as to form an integral part of the election process in much of the region. In Bibb County, Alabama, for example, the Bunche interviewer was told that between four and five hundred of the two thousand votes normally were “bought.” The complaint was often heard that people had “gotten in the habit of selling their vote.” Most candidates found it necessary to provide some “hauling” and “favors,” and a cer-

tain amount of this kind of expenditure was considered quite proper. The really ambitious candidate, remarked one Alabama registrar, made a house-to-house canvass. He “backslaps, babykisses, and bites a chew off the same plug with every farmer from here to Tennessee, and, if he has enough two dollar bills, he gets elected.” If there was a benign aspect to such practices, there was also an occasional note of humor in them, as the field reports showed.

Bunche and his assistants provided a great deal of evidence to support their contention that the poll tax was a serious medjum for the corruption of elections. In many places the administration of the exemption clauses was very liberal, and little effort was made to apply the tax as a systematic registration and voting requirement. An officer of elections in Madison County, Alabama, stated that candidates paid the poll taxes of many voters in his area: “I seen them pay up as much as $15 for a fellow, and I say it’s a good thing, too, because there’s so many people just ain’t got that much money—folks on the WPA and all. They wouldn’t be able to vote unless somebody helped them.”

A clerk in the office of probate judge in the same county estimated that one-third of the votes there were “bought,” many of them twice—once with poll taxes and again with the “pay-off” at the polls. The registration in Greene County, Georgia, in the spring of 1940 was the largest in the county’s history. Over three thousand dollars in back poll taxes were collected, and, according to a Greensboro justice of the peace, “two-thirds of this was paid by the candidates.”

Although many white Southerners were able, in one way or

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION xix another, to escape the maze of suffrage qualifications and get their names on the registration lists, low-voting percentages were among the most pronounced characteristics of the region’s politics. A Charleston, South Carolina, party official explained the pervasive political apathy by saying, “The trouble is you got to give people something before they'll vote.” Because of the oneparty dominance, “they don’t get nothing for the general elec-

tion.” Typical of many disadvantaged whites was the remark, “No, I don’t vote. I don’t care nothing about it. Whoever they elect, it’s all right with me.” Such indifference was sometimes feigned. Politics, some people asserted, “is the rottenest thing in this world. .. . It will make a liar out of you quicker’n anything I know of.” On the other hand, the interviewers reported that they -_-were occasionally told that “there’s a class of white people that oughtn’t to vote.” While the poll taxes of some voters were paid for them by candidates and machines, a larger number failed to

vote because of the tax requirement. As one humble white woman said, “My husband’s talked about voting ever since I can remember. He was going to vote this time, but he couldn’t get the money together in time. When he does, I’m going to make him save up for me, too.”

Defenders of the poll tax made much of the point that the revenue from the levy went to the support of the schools. They were even more insistent in arguing that the poll tax held back a potential flood of black political power. Asked whether he thought the poll tax should be repealed, the clerk of the election commission of Hamilton County, Tennessee, expressed a view common among white Southerners: Why? And have some big, black son-of-a-bitch sitting up in the courthouse sending white men to jail? That’s what would happen if the niggers started voting heavy here. They'd have a

black commissioner at City Hall—some sporting black reared back like God Almighty. No, Sir! Son, I’m not for that! I’m a Southerner and a Democrat. I was born and bred in the

South, and that kind of thing ain’t in the blood that runs in my veins.

The mayor of Chattanooga was just as emphatic: “Yea! What you want to do, repeal it and have the niggers in this town bond

us to death? They’d have this town in the poorhouse in two years. They don’t pay taxes, so they don’t care how much you spend.” Nevertheless, many Southerners expressed dissatisfaction with their local officials. If the percentage of white Southerners on the voting lists was

XX EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION small by national standards, it was still magnificent when compared with the percentage of enfranchised Negroes in the region. For all his knowledge of the South, George Stoney was struck by the “complete freeze-out of Negroes” in local politics. Bunche estimated that in 1940 no more than 200,000 Negroes

were registered in the eleven ex-Confederate states, and that over half of those qualified were located in the three states of Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. Only about 1,500 Negroes voted in the whole state of Alabama in 1936, despite the fact that some 18,000 Negro veterans were included in that state's blanket exemption of World War I veterans from the necessity of paying the poll tax. Whereas the registration of white people was often informal and slipshod, that of Negroes almost always involved “a harsh, hostile, and rigid application of the law and often something more than the law.” A registrar in Lee County, Alabama, recalled: “We have had a good little bit

of trouble with niggers. .. . Way back in 1920, when I was on the board before, we had a world of nigger women coming in to register. There was a dozen of them, I reckon, come in one registration period. We registered a few and then we stopped.”

A Negro’s ability to register in a particular locality in the South, Bunche wrote, was determined’ in large part by the atti-

tude of the local registrars, which varied considerably. Many responsible whites in Southern communities were willing to permit a token registration of the more successful blacks. This was not considered “dangerous.” But most registration officials seemed to consider Negro efforts to register as “trouble.” The chairman of the board of registrars in Macon County, Alabama, a woman, reported that the only “trouble” the registrars had with

Negroes resulted from the efforts of orderlies at the Veterans’ Hospital in Tuskegee to register. “Honestly, it’s awful the way they are doing,” she exclaimed. “Oh! They come in and they say they have been here two years when they haven’t. They are not really intelligent nigras like the ones out at Tuskegee [Institute], you know. We have to ask them a lot of questions about the Constitution and everything to keep them out.” Even with a sympathetic chairman of the registration board, Negroes customarily could not get their names on the voting list the first time they tried. There were some examples of registrars who

friends. |

accepted Negro applicants after hours as a favor to black The chairman of the board of registrars of Dougherty County,

Georgia, claimed that there was a “good nigger vote” in his

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION XXxi county, perhaps two or three hundred, and that they were property holders and taxpayers. Continuing in a philosophical vein, he declared:

You know, we've spent a fortune educating the niggers down here. The nigger race has come a lot farther than the white race in such a short time. You just look back at slavery times and count up... . It’s wonderful, and it’s all due to the credit of the Southern white man. The Yankees haven't done a damn thing for the niggers, and we'd be a lot better off if they'd leave us alone to handle things as we know how to. There were only four or five Negroes on the voting roll in Coffee County, Alabama, according to the chairman of the board there.

“We aren’t troubled with that here,” he remarked. “The people wouldn't stand for it. Now, I recognize that some niggers are capable of voting a lot more intelligently than a lot of white men who do vote. They are exceptions, of course, and I believe they ve got sense enough to know why white people don’t want them to

vote.” The fact was that the social climate and mores of the

South created an atmosphere of essential intimidation for Negro registrants. The tax collector of Newton County, Georgia, admitted that blacks were discouraged from voting, but he asserted that he had never tried to keep a colored person from registering, provided he paid his taxes. In his words, “Negroes just don’t have the nerve to come up and ask for registration. They feel that they could not and should not register.” An Alabama official was brutally forthright: “There ain’t a fuckin’ nigger in this end of the county who’d so much as go near a ballot box.” A Negro leader in Macon County, Alabama, explained some

of the difficulties his people encountered with the board of

. registrars:

First, they started making you get two witnesses to vouch for you—two legal voters. When we got that easy, they made us get two white witnesses. I started putting pressure on people who I trade with and they signed for them all right. Then,

they started saying we had to get two white people who worked in the courthouse. Then was when we started putting pressure on candidates we’d supported. Now, they'll let us sign with about anybody. ...They’ve started this year asking

a lot about the Constitution. ,

This note of subterfuge recurs again and again in the Bunche memorandum. For example, the chairman of the Negro Voters’

XXil EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION Club of Huntsville said that Negro teachers in that community had been trying to register for a long time. He described what happened: “You go up there and they might tell you the blanks have given out or it’s closing time. Most of the time they just walk out on you. The law says, they say, that all three of the registrars must be there before they can register a person. This isn’t so, because I’ve seen them register white people when only one is there, but just as soon as they see a Negro coming, one of them gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it.” In another Alabama community a Negro applicant was told that he would

have to recite the Constitution. In desperation he recited the Gettysburg Address, whereupon the registrar said, “That’s right. You can go ahead and register.”

A justice of the peace in Greene County, Georgia, described three Negro voters who “come in every time. Theyre mighty

polite... . Always with their hats in their hands. I haven't got any kick there. .. . Naturally, they vote for the New Deal, because give a nigger a little sweetnin’ and he'll vote any way.” Continuing, he declared: “You can’t get a nigger to chop wood or wash clothes any more. It’s past history! They're working for the government.” A patent medicine salesman in one Alabama com-

munity was alarmed at the thought of Negro enfranchisement. “If you don’t watch out,” he warned, “youre gonna have the same kind of niggers you got over in Miami. They know now, by God, they can control an election and they’ve got the police department scared.” According to the chairman of the county board of registrars in Montgomery, “All niggers—uneducated and educated—-have one idea back in their mind—that they want equality. .. . It is necessary to keep the Negro from voting, for voting would lead to social equality. The niggers are in the majority in this county and in Alabama. They would take over the power in the state. The white people are never going to give | them this power.” Bunche emphasized the mood of apathy and hopelessness that characterized the Negro’s political outlook in the South. He

also noted the way in which white Southerners rationalized this | condition. Senator Byron Patton Harrison of Mississippi gave a

classic statement when he declared: “The nigra is satisfied down there from a political standpoint. In my state, the nigra has played no part in politics for forty years and has no desire to do so. We are all content to leave the situation alone as it is.” Southern registration officials usually explained the absence of Negro names from the voting rolls by saying that Negroes “just

EDITORS INTRODUCTION XXili don’t care to register.” Many of these officers contended that Negroes were free to vote in all elections except the Democratic primaries. This was a dubious privilege even in places where it was areality, in view of the overwhelming finality of the primary results. The “what’s the use?” attitude of most Southern Negroes was evident in the interviews Wilhelmina Jackson conducted among

black workers on Butler Island, near Darien, Georgia. One woman told her: “Yes, I register, but I do not vote. I just don’t have time. You see, I always be working at voting time and all like that.” A young woman: “I don’t vote, but what I got to vote for?” A pulpwood worker: “Naw, I don’t vote. Black man ain't got no right. Even Negroes serving on the juries are so old that they can’t get out of their own way, and all they can do is ‘yes’ the white man.” A fisherman: “No, I don’t vote. I didn’t pay my taxes. Tain’t much use anyway.” The whites’ fear of the Negro as a voter seemed to stem not so much from doubt about the black man’s intentions as from fear of the way “white politicians” would manipulate Negro voters or apprehension that they might be used by labor unions, mill owners, or landlords. It was not fear “of black domination at all,” in Bunche’s opinion, “but a fear of white domination, in a political game in which the Negro voter is only a pawn.” The tax collector of Putnam County, Georgia, remarked that “niggahs would be all right voting if the whites was what they ought to be. That was the trouble before [disfranchisement]. White fellows wouldn’t leave them alone.” There was also some evidence that Southern politicians opposed Negro enfranchisement on the practical grounds that it would enlarge the electorate, make campaigning more expensive, and result in a less predictable outcome. Stoney encountered some old-time politicians who enjoyed the opportunity to describe their part in the “nigger vote buying” and “nigger vote stealing” of the “old days.” They liked to tell of the fights that broke out over the attempts to steal the “nigger vote,” of how their Negro votes were brought with liquor and women, and of how they led the black voters along with music

like the Pied Piper of Hamlin. High-jacking the other man’s Negro voters was a vital part of this “progress.” It was rather ludricrous, observed Bunciie, for Southern officials to claim that this situation made Negro disfranchisement necessary and that

“clean government” in the South was the result of that disfranchisement.

XXIV EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION The Bunche report contains some information on the way Negro votes were used by political machines in such places as San Antonio and Memphis. One informant estimated the number of “controlled Negro votes” in Hamilton County, Tennessee, at two thousand. A reporter for the Chattanooga Times graphically described the “system” employed by Walter Robinson, an influential Negro politician in that county. The chairman of the Democratic committee in Ware County, Georgia, said that two hundred Negroes had voted in a recent election in that county.

As he put it, “Their so-called leaders lined them up and they voted like sheep. That is what always happens. I know every time

we start to have a bond election, they go out and round up the nigras.” Occasionally, even in the Deep South, white politicians would appeal for Negro support, but they were reluctant to do so openly. Despite the fact that Negroes were almost completely disfran-

chised in the South at the time he prepared his memorandum, Bunche expressed the view that an increasing number of blacks in the region were showing a determination to exercise the ballot. Some Negroes were beginning to question the old “back door” methods that enabled a few members of the race to get their names on the registration lists, and these critics were demanding a more militant approach. Here and there one could find examples of greater Negro involvement in politics. An organizational drive in Macon, Georgia, added almost 200 Negroes

to the voting list. By 1939 approximately 2,100 Negroes were registered in Atlanta, as compared with fewer than 1,000 in 1936. The number of black registrants in Duval County, Florida, increased from fewer than 1,500 in 1936 to more than 8,000 in 1938. Negroes were taking a more active political role in a num-

ber of municipalities in the South, and some were being admitted to the Democratic primaries. One Negro worker said to an interviewer: “They’s talked more politics since Mistuh Roosevelt been in than ever befo’. J been here 20 years, but since WPA, the Negro sho’ has started talkin’ ’bout politics.”

Perhaps the most promising development, certainly in the Deep South, that seemed to point toward the political activation of the Negro was his participation in the AAA cotton referenda. As Bunche wrote, “Many thousands of Negro cotton farmers each year now go to the polls, stand in line with their neighbors, and mark their ballots independently, without protest or intimidation, in order to determine government policy toward cotton production control.” An Alabama county agent reported that a

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION XXV larger proportion of Negro than white farmers voted in these referenda. As he explained, “It’s the only election they get to take partin.” The county agent in Greene County, Georgia, said of the Negro voters in these elections: “They look forward to it.” But,

he added, “I don’t think half of them know what they're voting about.” In retrospect, it appears that Bunche exaggerated the significance of the black man’s participation in the cotton referenda. Seldom, if ever, was a Negro allowed to serve.on the local committees that supervised the elections, and Negroes do not seem to have had much part in the selection of the members of the committees.® Yet these referenda did permit many Negro farmers some part in public affairs. There was an undercurrent of expectation, no doubt associated with the ferment of the New Deal, that seemed to promise

the likelihood of future changes even in the Negro’s role in Southern politics. A former mayor of Charleston expressed it this way: “The nigger’s going to get the vote in the South one of these days. I don’t like to see it coming, but it is.” Some white

farmers, one Alabamian noted, had come to feel that Negroes should have “a few more rights... . It hasn’t been so long since a lot of these big farmers in Alabama thought what mattered to a

nigger, didn’t matter.” The chairman of the Hall County, Georgia, Republican party declared: “All over the country it’s the trend to give the nigger the vote. I don’t see how they can keep it out of Georgia long. It does look like they ought to get a vote somewhere, but I don’t know what the black counties will _ do when that day comes.”

Ii Fundamentally, Ralph Bunche’s interpretation of “The Political Status of the Negro” was consistent with Gunnar Myrdal’s theme

in An American Dilemma. To Myrdal, race relations in the United States represented, not a “Negro problem,” but a “white man’s problem.” The white man had imposed a way of life on the Negro which was at variance with the “American Creed” which the white man himself espoused, and it was the responsibility of white men to formulate and effect a more adequate and morally correct treatment of Negroes. The existence of the his6. Myrdal was more cautious in his evaluation, explaining that

Negroes voted because “their votes are needed.” He noted that they “are seldom allowed to vote for committeemen. Even when Negroes do exercise some privileges, it seldom means that they have any real influence on the decisions” (An American Dilemma, 1:259).

XXV1 EDITORS INTRODUCTION toric ideals in the United States, Myrdal contended, had set up a great ideological conflict, in large part a psychological struggle within the individual, who recognized that racial prejudices and discriminatory practices did not conform to the generally accepted creed. Bunche seemed to be less optimistic than Myrdal about the potential power of American Negroes as a result of the split in the moral personality of whites. He gave greater weight than Myrdal to the existence of a countercreed in the South which provided white Southerners with sanctions for their support of traditional racial attitudes and institutions. Like Myr-

dal, Bunche tended to exaggerate the role that labor unions would play in resolving the nation’s racial dilemma, to explain racial prejudice too much in terms of class divisions, and not to foresee the extent to which impetus for future changes in the Negro’s status would come from Negroes in the South. Although Bunche did not neglect ideological factors (he had a sharp word for those who contended that it mattered little to the American Negro whether the Nazis or their opponents won

the struggle in Europe), he stressed economic and class conflict. “The so-called Negro problem in America,” he declared, “is only incidentally a racial one. Many of its major roots go deeper

than race and are themselves embedded in the fundamental

problems of economic conflict and distress which afflict the entire society.” Like Charles A. Beard, he saw the Civil War as es-

sentially a clash between the growing industrial power of the

North and the agrarian landholding interests of the South. He adopted a revisionist view of Reconstruction. The Democratic party in the Southern states, he wrote, represented the upper and middle classes. The political South was basically an oligarchy, effectively run by large landholders, bankers, and corporations. Yet the South had never really been solid, according to the Howard political scientist. “Only the clever manipulation of the threat of black dominance has kept the underprivileged white masses and the privileged upper classes of the South from coming to a parting of the political ways.” Negro disfranchisement was the one thing on which the white South was “99 and 44/100 per cent pure,” and even that, as carried out in the 1890s

and early 1900s, had been the subject of bitter controversy among white men. While Bunche referred to the South as a political oligarchy,

he pictured it as being decentralized, almost anarchistic. He placed great emphasis on the limited suffrage in the region and sought to show the depressing and stultifying influence of the

EDITORS INTRODUCTION XXVil poll tax upon white Southerners. Yet, as a result of his study, he saw some signs of change, some easing of the old white attitude of “absolute hostility toward Negro voting,” some inclination on the part of white Southerners to abandon “the Negro diversion.”

In An American Dilemma Myrdal wrote: “Despite all professions to the contrary, the acceptance in principle even by the conservative white Southerners of the American Creed explains why so many exceptions are made to the rule of excluding Neeroes from voting.” In fact, he concluded, the “Southern franchise situation” was “highly unstable” and would be “politically

untenable for any length of time.”* Bunche himself was not without hope for the future democratization of the South, seeming to find some modest gains in the extent of liberal sentiment,

interracial cooperation, and awareness of common economic problems in the Southern states. He was cautiously optimistic about the Negro’s chances of entering more fully into Southern political affairs in the coming years. He also suggested the improving possibility of a more competitive party situation in the South. “The lily-white Republican movement in the South might

actually be of some ultimate advantage to the Negro,” he observed. “That is, if the Republican party, as a white party, can attract to itself the large number of severe critics of the New Deal in the region, it may actually be an opening wedge for a two-party system in the South.” But Bunche was not misled into believing that the Negro’s status would change overnight. His memorandum reveals how limited and inchoate black protest of

even the mildest sort was in the Southern states during the 1930s. There was no genuine reform movement that affected the mass of the people—white or black——and Southern liberalism was, to Bunche, a weak reed indeed.

Even at the time it was prepared, the Bunche memorandum suffered from a number of deficiencies. The narrative was rambling and repetitious. There was little that was original in the author’s commentary, which was intended to summarize existing scholarship and to point up the findings of the field investi-

gations. Bunche pointed out, in his chapter on the historical background, that he was not attempting any “original postulations.” “I don’t mind ‘sticking my neck out’ on occasion,” he wryly

remarked, “but I do not care to do so recklessly and without some chance of getting it back in again.” More serious was Bunche’s failure to make distinctions of a subregional kind. He 7. Myrdal, An American Dilemma, 1:461, 518.

XXVill EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION emphasized the point that there were many Souths, but the fact that his data was drawn so largely from the Southeast (particularly Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina) made it difficult for him to speak authoritatively about regional patterns and in-

ternal contrasts. Bunche had planned a much more elaborate treatment, including a quantitative analysis of Negro voting and the factors associated with the Negro’s political status in the South, but lack of time and money made it impossible to undertake any of these studies on a thoroughgoing basis. The treatment of Negro politics in the North was even less adequate, being largely derivative and based on little empirical research.

The only extensive interviewing done outside of the South and border states was Wilhelmina Jackson’s investigations in Philadelphia. Bunche had hoped to carry out a statistical analysis of Negro voting in selected Northern cities and to study sev-

eral other aspects of Negro politics in the North, but lack of time and resources rendered this impossible.

Many scholars, including V. O. Key and Alexander Heard, have used “The Political Status of the Negro.” These writers and others made use of the memorandum’s interview material, and

some of them were influenced by Bunche’s interpretation of such phenomena as the South’s limited suffrage, the white primary, the role of the “courthouse gang,” the crucial importance of the South in Congress, and, especially, the place of the Negro in Southern politics. The Negro exercised very limited suffrage, wrote Bunche, but his very presence was “a dominating influence upon Southern politics.” Indeed, the “nonvoting Negro remains the greatest single political influence” in the region, the “essential vehicle of Southern politics.” Bunche’s massive report on the Negro in politics is a valuable historical document. It did a great deal to shape Myrdal’s treatment of the subject in An American Dilemma, particularly the chapter entitled “Political Practices Today.” The memorandum

supplies us with a backdrop against which we can measure change in the Negro’s political status and interpret the origins and consequences of the Second Reconstruction. The work’s | most enduring value, however, lies in its wealth of personal interviews and firsthand impressions of the Negro and Southern politics.

The memorandum is important as a source of information about political practices in the Southern states—registration procedures, the application of suffrage qualifications, the extent of white and black disfranchisement, the conduct of elections,

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION , XX1X the operation of local political machines, and the limited nature of the Negro’s involvement in the political process. It offers some insight into the historical, economic, sociological, and psychological factors that accounted for these practices, as well as some understanding of the myths, stereotypes, and symbols that contemporaries often used to explain and justify them. The report is also significant because of the light it throws on the characteristics of Negro political life, on the levels of black political involvement, and on the patterns of race relations, particularly in the South. It tells us something about Negro political leadership during the New Deal era—about the styles and meaning of that

leadership—and the nature of Negro advancement organizations. It provides some impressions of the kinds of Negroes who participated in politics, which areas of the South they inhabited, and which factors encouraged their political involvement. Perhaps the most interesting aspects of the Bunche report as

a historical source are those that disclose the attitudes of the people interviewed. These are quite revealing and all the more fascinating because they are so frequently expressed in everyday language. They bear on all manner of things: the ballot, the community, the government, the New Deal, local concerns, class differences, and matters of race. Racial feelings and attitudes, by the very nature of the investigation, are most prominent. The reader will find it rewarding to explore any number of questions touched on in this study. For example, what does it reveal about the differences in racial attitudes between Southern whites and blacks? How wide was the range of racial attitudes

in the two subcommunities? Did either whites or blacks correctly perceive the attitudes of the other race? Is there evidence of a reorientation of the Negro’s thinking as a result of the economic depression and the New Deal? Is there evidence of a shift in white attitudes toward Negroes during the Roosevelt era?

One has only to compare Talcott Parsons’ and Kenneth B. Clark’s recent study, The Negro American (1966), with Myr-

dal’s An American Dilemma to realize how extensive the changes have been during the last two decades, both in the Negro’s place in American society and in the scholarly methods of analyzing racial and minority problems. For all its information and illumination, An American Dilemma has become outdated as an approach to the “Negro problem.” Today it is essentially a historical document. This is preeminently true of Ralph Bunche’s memorandum on Negro politics. As a historical docu-

XXX EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION ment, “The Political Status of the Negro” can be read with much

profit, not only for what it tells us about election procedures, political practices, and black proscription, particularly in the South, but also for what it reveals about the lives of ordinary Americans in the era of Franklin D. Roosevelt—their conditions, habits, prejudices, myths, and aspirations. Before the , opinion survey had become a well-established technique of the social scientist, the interviews and personal observations of Bunche and his assistants provided the basic ingredients for a unique source in understanding more fully the nation’s most tragic domestic failing. Thus the memorandum is an important contribution to the new literature on the historical experience of black Americans, not least because of the perspective it offers on the Negro revolution of our own time. Dewey W. Grantham

A Note on the Editing

THE Bunche memorandum was intended to serve as a working

paper for Gunnar Myrdal’s use in writing An American Dilemma, and it naturally possesses the characteristics of a hurriedly-prepared first draft. It is disjointed, rambling, and repeti-

tious. Its organization, apportionment of space, and internal cohesiveness leave much to be desired, as Bunche fully realized. _ Yet the report is impressive in spite of its shortcomings, and a reader of the original manuscript can only admire the ambitious scope of the study, the care with which it dealt with many aspects of the subject, and the seriousness of purpose and scholarly commitment that are reflected in its pages. Bunche was determined to incorporate in his work both the empirical findings of his interviewers and the results of other scholarship. In preparing the memorandum for publication, I have sought to retain the basic organization and as much of the original language as possible. Some changes in the organization of the report have been made in the interest of greater coherence. The major modification in this respect was the separation of the commentary from the main body of field interviews and special reports. In the 1940 version, Bunche interspersed his own opinions and conclusions

throughout the report. Most of these evaluations have been extracted from the body of the memorandum and combined with the author’s original introduction, historical background chapter, and conclusion to form part 1 of this volume. Great care has been taken to retain the language, context, and logic of the draft XXX1

XXXii A NOTE ON THE EDITING report. Some rearrangement of material has been made in part 2, where a few of the original chapters have been divided or combined, but the general order that Bunche followed has been preserved. A good deal of repetitious material has been eliminated, and the three appendixes and the selective bibliography have been omitted. I have tried to keep all, or almost all, of the interview material and to present without change the exact words of the people being quoted. Some silent changes have been made in capitalization and punctuation for the sake of consistency. Although the full report contains the names of most of the people inter-

viewed, these individuals are ordinarily not named here, in order to avoid possible embarrassment to living people. This edition of the memorandum does identify, in the text or in foot-

notes, the names of the interviewers, except in those few in-

stances where the original report fails to provide such

information. I gladly acknowledge my indebtedness to the late Ralph J.

Bunche for his cooperation and support in the editing of this | volume. Although his serious illness prevented me from discussing the memorandum with him, he was enthusiastic about the undertaking from the beginning and unfailing in his efforts to facilitate my work. I am also grateful to Judge William B. Bry-

ant, who generously took time from his busy schedule to talk with me about his part as Bunche’s research assistant in the preparation of “The Political Status of the Negro.” My thanks go to Professor Guy B. Johnson of the University of North Carolina

for telling me about his association with Bunche as a member of Myrdal’s staff in 1939 and 1940. I am happy to acknowledge the help of George C. Stoney, the principal interviewer for the project, who not only described for me his role in the work but also made available some copies of the extensive field reports he made during his swing through the South in 1940. Finally, Iam

greatly indebted to Miss Martha H. Swain of Vanderbilt University for valuable research assistance and for preparing the index. The photographs that appear in the text were taken between 1935 and 1941 by the Farm Security Administration in the areas covered by this study and are included as a visual reinforcement of the discussion of the period. I would like to thank the Library

of Congress Department of Prints and Photographs for its assistance in making these photographs available. I am especially

A NOTE ON THE EDITING XXXill grateful to Dr. Alan Fern, the director of the department, and Mr. Leroy Bellamy, whose specific knowledge of the Farm Security Administration collection made the difficult task of selection somewhat easier. Dewey W. Grantham 13 July 1971

BLANK PAGE

PART ONE

The Political Status of the Negro: A Commentary

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ONE

The American Political Scene

PERHAPS the starting point should be the influence which eighteenth-century liberalism had upon American political thought

and institutions. It is sufficient to note that the influence of civil libertarianism upon American thought at the time of the American Revolution was great. From this revolt there emanated, it is true, a high regard for the rights of property, but of even greater importance for the Negro is the fact that the Revolution, though bourgeois in character, handed down to American society fundamental concepts of human equality and human rights. It is within this conceptual milieu, inherited from the American Revolution, that the Negro now carries on his struggle for political emancipation in the South.

The revolutionary tide had already begun to recede at the time of the calling of the Constitutional Convention of 1787. The struggle at the convention was between the interests that feared democracy as a “hydra-headed monster” and those that subscribed to the principles of equalitarianism. The constitution itself represented a compromise solution between these conflicting interests. It surrounded property interests with unusual protection and elevated property to a level of equality with human rights; and it afforded more than ample opportunity for undemocratic practices. But, contradictory as it may seem, the constitution did lay the basis for the broadest ideological pattern of human equality, human liberty, and human rights that the modern world has known. It hardly needs to be pointed out that the American moneyed

and landed aristocracy exerted a controlling influence over 3

4 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

political, social, and economic life in the early days of the nation’s constitutional history. For our purposes, special note should be taken of the rather severe limitations upon the exercise of the franchise in this early period, the provisions for the indirect election of the president and senators, the loose organization of political parties and their domination by the upper classes through the operation of the caucuses, the conservative decisions of the Supreme Court, and undemocratic legislation such as that represented by the Sedition Act. During these years there was a good deal of distrust of the instability and recklessness of the masses, and it was widely feared that

the American ship of state would founder upon the shoals of irresponsible legislation should too much authority be placed in the hands of the unlettered. Some reference should be made to such nineteenth-century developments as the struggle for dominance and power represented in the Civil War and the growth of industrial barons coincident with the course of the Industrial Revolution. Without presuming to dig into the history of class division in the United States, it can be pointed out that there has been a long running conflict between the landed aristocracy and the proletarian offspring of the Industrial Revolution. The reverse of the picture of the American ruling class necessarily reveals the American masses. The latter began with the indentured servants and the slaves, and formed the basis for an American working class and an American peasantry—the poor whites of the rural South and the industrial workers of the urban centers of both North and South. The significance of these great American masses—black and white, largely inert and inarticulate—to the nation’s political process is abundantly clear. It is here that we encounter a historically permanent blind spot in the operation of American democracy, for these people, by and large, have enjoyed but slight participation in the processes of government. This is true of great sections of the white population of the South even today. It is of the greatest significance that there has never been, in democratic America, a real movement embracing and representing the masses of the population. The most startling feature of the great growth of labor unionism in this country has been the lack of any political orientation and consciousness on the part of the movement. Only recently has the Congress of Industrial Organizations embarked upon this course in somewhat haphazard fashion. The American Federation of Labor traditionally

THE AMERICAN POLITICAL SCENE o pursued a policy of political individualism. The most significant of the early efforts leading toward the formation of a mass movement was that of Populism, arising out of the agrarian revolt. The history of that movement is of prime importance to the subject of Negro political status. Sectionalism has played an extremely vital role in American politics. Most of the great political issues have had their roots in sectional interests, and certainly until recent years, if not still,

these sectional differences have been the dominant feature in the nation’s politics. It is, I think, still an open question whether, in American politics, sectional interests are giving way before class interests. It is not difficult to relate the interest of the Negro to these sectional divergencies in politics, especially in view of the fact that the vast majority of Negroes live in one section of the country—the South. Sectional conflicts must also be considered in terms of their effect upon the strength of political parties and the heterogeneity in party membership. The American party system is of the greatest importance to Negro political status. On the one hand, it is through party or-

ganization that that portion of the black population which exercises the franchise has an opportunity on occasion to exert political influence far in excess of its numerical strength in the particular locality. On the other hand, the recognition of the authority of the political party to determine its own membership

constitutes the basis for the most effective instrument yet employed to deny the largest part of the Negro population—that of | the South—any real political participation. For it is the peculiar nature of our party setup which makes it possible for the Democratic party in the South to exclude Negroes from membership and, therefore, from participation in the only real elections held in the South—the Democratic primaries.

Many other aspects of the American party system have a direct or indirect relevance to the Negro’s political status. I think that a great deal might be written upon the subject of the two-party system and its relationship to the political interests of such a minority group as the Negro. Why has it been impossible to develop a multiple-party system in America? Why

have all third-party movements failed here? What would be the significance of a multiple-party system to the Negro? Would

the solid South have developed in the face of a multiple-party tradition? What significance have third-party efforts had for the Negro and his political status? Notice must also be taken of the broad importance of the

6 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

frontier for political and economic life in the United States, and especially for the peculiarly American psychology of individualism and escape, which the presence of the frontier stimulated. For black people, however, the frontier provided no important physical means of escape, since there was no substantial migration of Negroes to the West. The Negro remained anchored in the South: first, because the great masses of blacks after emancipation lacked the means to undertake the journey to the free lands of the West; secondly, because there was hostility in both South and West to Negro migration; and, thirdly, because the Negro was led to nurture high hopes concerning the land which presumably would be made available to him in the South—a hope symbolized by the “forty acres

and a mule” dream, which was never realized. Nevertheless, the frontier and its psychological derivative, the “American dream,” did have an important influence upon the thinking of Negroes, as it did upon the thinking of the nation as a whole. The black citizen, too, began to think in an optimistic vein and to take it for granted that his class and group status must inevitably improve here.

American politics is so typically machine politics that it would be impossible to broach the subject realistically without

discussing the nature and influence of the machine. This, of course, has an important bearing upon Negro political activity, because wherever this activity is found, it quite naturally tends to follow the pattern of American politics and to lend itself to

machine control. It is sufficient to note at this point that a weighty factor in the evolution of the political machines in local politics has been their ability to prey upon illiterate immigrants,

other disadvantaged whites, and the Negro masses. The great

ring bosses have been prone to take their votes where they found them and to take the easiest votes first. Until very recently, the Negro and immigrant votes have been among the most readily bought and the most tractable. Mention should be made of the peculiar attraction which the demagogue seems to have for the American electorate. It is, perhaps, a tendency in the United States to make a fetish of leadership and to ascribe our troubles and our accomplishments to it. There is no question in my mind but that the American public attributes much more importance to personalities than it does

to principles and issues. Thus, it is possible for an individual without principle or program, but endowed with a good radio voice and an engaging smile or an unusual ability to harangue,

THE AMERICAN POLITICAL SCENE v to win enthusiastic support from large numbers of voters. This makes it easy for the demagogue to gain power. Although the demagogue is not confined to any one section, the South has had many more than its share and has contributed its own peculiar breed. The significance of this particular characteristic of American politics to the Negro is ominously clear. Given the proper circumstances, demagogic leaders might foment movements which could easily nullify whatever progress the Negro has been able to make since emancipation and do to the Negro here what Germany has so efficiently done to the Jew there. Negro political leadership merely simulates the broad patterns of conduct of white political leadership. One is tempted to suggest that perhaps there is a difference, in that the Negro po-

litical leader would naturally tend to make greater appeal to race and race consciousness, but it is hardly possible that any black political leader could be any more racially demagogic or any more dependent upon racial appeals than the Southern political leaders who follow closely the patterns set by the Vardamans, the Bleases, and the Heflins. Another characteristic of American politics, closely related to the foregoing, is the cordial reception which American voters traditionally give to crackpot schemes. In recent years, we have seen large numbers of people marching enthusiastically behind banners with such slogans as “Every Man a King,” “Thirty Dollars Every Thursday,” and “Ham and Eggs Every Friday.” The programs of organizations such as the Ku Klux Klan are in the

same vein, but they are of more serious import to minority groups like the Negro. The burning of crosses, the wearing of hoods, and the mysterious rituals of secret societies have been significant factors in the American political process. There is always the possibility, particularly in crucial times like these, that

real Americanism will be given a perverted interpretation, loaded with destructive possibilities for the Negro. Since the Civil War, our two major parties have seldom been differentiated by significant ideological positions. Certainly it can be shown that, with the exception of the Negro issue and the

tariff, there has been no fundamental difference in their programs. The two parties really stand for no fundamental programs. They shift positions at will and are now reversing them-

selves on the issue of centralization versus decentralization, which has so long been held to constitute an essential difference

between them. Thus, the analysis tends to reduce itself to a statement of what the particular party stands for in the partic-

8 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

ular election rather than an analysis of a broad position, traditionally assumed by either party. The absence of opposition parties of any significance has made it possible for the two big parties to monopolize political power without producing any basic programs, and without representing anything in particular except the financial interests that subsidize them. This explains why the Negro, in giving his traditional support to the Republican party, has had to do so on the basis of Republican legend rather than because of any constructive pro-

gram which the party offered for the improvement of black status. It explains, also, why in the period of depression the Negro readily forswore his allegiance to the Republican party when the Democratic party offered him relief and relief jobs. The Republicans established the tradition of including in GOP platforms a short statement of some kind relating to their interest in Negro welfare. This has been considered good strategy in the presidential election years. It is, perhaps, not surprising that neither of our major parties has ever considered it necessary to offer a constructive program looking toward the amelioration of the country’s Negro minority problem—one of the most troublesome in our history. The recognition extended to the Negro has been in the most glittering generalities, but the fact is that neither party has ever seen fit to

offer a constructive and comprehensive program looking toward the social well-being of the population as a whole. The one

effort made in this direction—and that a rather feeble one— has been the desperate activity of the New Deal during the depths of the depression. Significantly, now that the depression has lifted slightly, much of the social program of the New Deal is being subjected to serious attack, and many important aspects of it may be scuttled before all the shooting is over. The Negro population, resting at the bottom of society, is al-

most entirely within that low income group which has the greatest need for a broad and liberal governmental policy of social welfare. It is one of the ironies and the inconsistencies of

our social system that, despite our democratic foundation, so large a part of our population is unable to express its will on those very aspects of governmental policy which most vitally affect its welfare. The American government is responsive less to the will of the

, electorate than to the demands of organized pressure groups. Negroes have been forced to adopt lobbying and pressure group tactics as a measure of self-preservation, and Negro organiza-

THE AMERICAN POLITICAL SCENE 9 tions have done some of their most effective work through employment of these methods. Similar tactics are pursued by black organizations toward state legislatures. No Negro lobby, however, can be altogether effective, because there is no such thing as Negro unity, the black vote is not a bloc vote, and there is neither the leadership nor the organizational control necessary to weld the Negro population into a formidable pressure group. The study of the political status of the Negro is, in itself, a partial record of the shortcomings of American democracy. I think that we should at least raise some questions concerning the seeming inability of American democracy to “democ” and the essential reasons for this failure. This is especially important

in a period in which there are already too many people who are | apparently lukewarm toward democracy and who are willing to make snap judgments about it. There are too many who will say that if democracy cannot quickly correct its shortcomings

in the world today, it does not deserve to survive. There are others who adopt an air of futility and defeatism, and who wail that it is impossible for democracy to compete with the highly centralized governments of the totalitarian nations. Among those who take such views are many Negroes, despite the fact that it would be racially suicidal for the black man if totalitarianism in any form should be substituted for our present democratic concepts. Yet, all who swear by the democratic sys-

tem know that there are serious questions to which we must

find the answers.

Why is it that, with our extremely democratic educational system, we do not produce a more politically intelligent and a less politically apathetic electorate? Why is it that American voters are so easily led away from their own political and economic interests and are so ready to enter upon ideological wildgoose chases? Why is it that there is so little independent voting and so much machine regimentation? Why is it that votes are so easily bought; that elections are so corrupt; that long ballots persist; that in many places secret ballots are unheard-of; that elections are so loosely administered; and that candidates do not need either platforms, intelligence, or honor? What possi-

bility is there for an American brand of fascism under the guise of one-hundred-percent Americanism? Finally, what steps can we take to safeguard our democratic institutions and to move toward realization of our democratic ideals?

TWO

The Historical Background

THROUGHOUT American history, the South has been distinguish-

able as a separate region of the country with its own peculiar social, political, and economic institutions and ideologies. Though we speak of the solid South, the region has not in any sense been solid in the past, nor is it today, except in its traditional adherence to the doctrine of white supremacy on the one hand and to the political derivative of that doctrine—a blind allegiance to

the one-party system—on the other. There have always been severe class distinctions in the South. Negroes and poor whites have always occupied the two bottom rungs of the ladder, and the white landlords, industrialists, and bankers—the Bourbons —have always been at the top. In between the white and black masses at the bottom and the numerically small aristocracy at the top, there has developed an intermediate class of small farmers, who today are in serious danger of being pushed down into the agricultural and industrial proletariat. Between these upper and lower classes in the South there has been a traditional and deep-seated hostility. Only the clever manipulation of the threat of black dominance has kept the underprivileged white masses and the privileged upper classes of the South from coming to a parting of the political ways.

The slave population of the South took on political significance at a very early date in American history, as is evident in the “three-fifths” compromise at the Constitutional Convention of 1787. This provision of the Constitution gave the slave states a disproportionate share of representation in the House of Representatives—and in the electoral college—but it was 10

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12 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

the price the Northerners were compelled to pay for the Southerners support of the great document. The two main characteristics of the antebellum South were the institution of slavery and the problem of the Negro. Slavery created an intense rivalry between the slave-owning planters of the tidewater and “black lands” regions, on the one hand, and the non—slave-owning white farmers, artisans, and mountain-

eers, on the other. The very nature of the plantation system produced a wide gap between the plantation owners and the rest of the population. This gap was widened because the institution of slavery tended to degrade labor and to cause it to be looked upon as disreputable. Not only did slavery as an institution place labor in disrespect, it also discouraged the develop-

ment of industry and commerce. In another sense, however, slavery provided the basis for the South’s solidarity; for when Southern institutions that supported black bondage were attacked by outsiders, both classes in the South tended to make

common cause in resisting the interference by designing

: Northerners.

The North early began a moral offensive against the South’s peculiar institution, and this was soon extended into a political and economic offensive. Toward the moral offensive, the South itself was at first not altogether unsympathetic. Many people in the region harbored grave doubts as to the ultimate social and economic effects of the slave system. But after 1830 the new profitability of the slave economy to the South and the irritating abolitionist sentiment of the North tended to stiffen the Southern defense of slavery. The South quickly stopped flirting with

Jeffersonian ideas and ceased doubting and apologizing for slavery. The presence of the Negro made it impossible for the

South even to think in democratic terms. Southern sectionalism was also encouraged by the region’s unhappiness over a variety of economic policies that were attributed to Northern influence in the national government. All of these factors helped to push

Southerners into the Democratic party and to create the basis for a sectional loyalty south of the Potomac River that transcended party and factional lines. There was no Negro political activity of any consequence in the antebellum period, for restrictions against even the free Negro were widespread. Early black political leadership was confined primarily to that expressed through scattered slave revolts and to that of the free Negroes, whose burdens were great and who feared that they would be pushed down to the

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 13 level of the slaves. As free persons, these Negroes found themselves in an increasingly difficult and paradoxical position. In all of the Southern states and most of those of the North as well, these black people, though “free,” were disfranchised, denied

fundamental rights in the courts, and otherwise treated in a manner far different from that accorded other American citizens. Nevertheless, all of the New England states except Connecticut permitted Negroes to vote; Wisconsin gave the suffrage to free Negroes in 1849; and a few scattered court decisions upheld the black man’s right to vote. There is sufficient evidence

of Negro political activity in some of the Northern states to demonstrate the historical errors implicit in Chief Justice Taney’s dictum, in the Dred Scott case, to the effect that the Negro had not been accorded the status of citizenship in the United States. There was certainly a fundamental recognition of the status of citizenship for the free Negro, though his political influence was practically nil. It should be noted that even Lincoln was greatly troubled by the Negro problem and that he

went so far as to seek a means of escape from it through

colonization. A combination of many factors brought on the Civil War, but

its central cause was the fundamental antagonism between the interests of North and South resulting from the essential differences in their economies. The war would not have been fought merely for the sake of freeing the slaves. That the Civil War freed the slaves was only an incident in the violent clash of interests between the industrial North and the agricultural South —a conflict that was resolved in favor of the industrial North. In this struggle the Negro was an innocent pawn. Although his future here depended upon the outcome, he had very little part in it until the latter stages of the war. Two of the legends that derived from this internecine struggle must be mentioned. One holds that Lincoln was the great emancipator and that the North was engaged in a great mis-

sionary crusade. Lincoln became a great emancipator and humanitarian in the minds of Negroes because the North eventually won the war and the slaves were freed; but the basic interests that dictated Lincoln’s attitudes and actions in the presidency were those related to his determination to keep the Union intact. If the conflict of interests between the two sections had not become so acute that it was no longer possible to hold the country together without destroying the institution of slavery,

there is no evidence to indicate that Lincoln’s humanitarian

14 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

tendencies would have induced him to risk breaking up the Un-

ion in order to free the slaves. Similarly, while it must be admitted that there was strong abolitionist sentiment in many sections of the North and West, it cannot be said that all of this sentiment was prompted by sincerely humanitarian motives. William Lloyd Garrison and his followers were undoubtedly sincere in their fanatical opposition to the enslavement of human beings, but there were many abolitionists in the North whose attitudes on the question of slavery were dictated by the strategy of sectional warfare. The fact that there were potent elements in the Northern population that were not moved by the appeal of the crusade against human bondage is sufficiently testified to by the difficulty encountered by the North in raising an army and by the violent riots which broke out when the conscription law was belatedly enforced. Yet these Civil War myths have exerted a tremendous influence on the thinking of Negroes and, at least until 1932, were the controlling factor in determining the political attitudes and activities of Negroes. The Negro voter’s blind loyalty to the Republican party can be interpreted in no other terms. It is also important to note that the Civil War did not immediately stimulate any great political awakening and social consciousness among Negroes. The black masses lacked the ideological drive characteristic of any people who have fought their way through a revolutionary period. The Civil War, in unchaining the Negro in the South, put a temporary stop to the developing antagonism between the white classes. This interjection of the racial issue checked what inevitably would have been a vigorous upsurge of the white masses in the South and a process of thorough democratization of that region. Thus, class differences and class antagonisms continued, but, for reasons of alleged self-preservation, the South became convinced that it was necessary to call a halt to political divisions through which these class differences would otherwise have found their natural expression. The white South was determined to keep the black man in a subordinate economic, political, and social status. The vital significance of the Reconstruction period to the po- . litical status of the Negro is found in the temporary eclipse of white supermacy and the rise of the new black estate in the South. Major consideration must be given to the great hope which the Negro placed in his affiliation with and protection by the Republican party. Such black leaders as Frederick Douglass,

, THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 15 P. B.S. Pinchback, and John M. Langston saw in this affiliation

| the salvation of the Negro. They turned their backs on those spurious efforts then being made to align the black man with labor organizations and cautioned the Negro that “the Republican Party is the ship; all else is the sea.” This early Negro polit-

, ical leadership set the pattern that was not broken until Franklin D. Roosevelt and the New Deal came along.

Classified on the basis of their motives, the advocates of Negro suffrage after the Civil War fall into two groups. In the first and smallest group were theorists like Charles Sumner who believed suffrage to be a natural right and hence favored universal suffrage in the North and the South. The larger and more influential group among the so-called Radicals was made up of politicians of the Thaddeus Stevens type. Stevens and his

cohorts feared, above all else, the increased representation which the South would get by virtue of the freedmen and the probable alliance of the Southerners with the Northern “copperheads” or Democrats. Such a combination would threaten the continuance of Republican domination of the national govern-

ment; and in Republican supremacy, they assumed, lay the safety and welfare of the Union. Probably a more important consideration from the politician’s point of view was the safety of the political careers of the party leaders. One might well speculate as to what would have happened

in this period if a different course had been followed. What would have happened had Lincoln lived and attempted to offset the severe proposals of the Radical Republicans? What would have happened had the large plantations of the South been broken up and distributed among the poor whites and blacks? Had the owners been compensated for the slaves which were taken from them, would the South have altered its harsh attitude toward the Negro? Would it have made any great difference in the relative position of the races had the Reconstruc-

tion governments not been crammed down the throats of the brooding South? Is it likely that, without the Emancipation : Proclamation, the institution of slavery would have soon broken down from its own internal weaknesses and thus left less ill feeling and hostility in the South? Is it likely that a milder policy toward the South would have led the poor whites to develop an

increasingly active class consciousness instead of being engulfed by the emotional doctrine of white supremacy? What would have been the result had the North and the South assumed a joint guardianship over the emancipated slave instead

16 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

of throwing him out on his own resources? Would it have been possible to invoke some sort of reservation scheme similar to that employed for the protection of the Indian, at least until the harsh feelings engendered by the conflict between the two sections had become tempered by time?

A great many attempts have been made to evaluate Negro political activity during this period, and to appraise the quality and achievements of the black legislators. This is undoubtedly one of the most controversial chapters in American history. Negro historians generally try to picture these legislators as great reformers who introduced democratic institutions to the South. White historians in general are quite critical of the activities of these black statesmen and damn them with faint praise, if they do not condemn them outright for their alleged ignorance and venality. This group consideration of the black legislators seems to me to be unfortunate. These men were all individuals, just as all elected officials are. They represented no movement, and they had no organization. Some of them were well educated and competent, and some of them were poorly trained, incompetent, and dishonestly opportunistic. They can and should be appraised as individuals, with due consideration being given to the milieu in which they had to work. What it all amounts to, it seems to me, is that in the period of Reconstruction there were some thoroughly good and some very bad Negro politicians. That is true of white politicians in all periods. The South still inveighs vigorously against the black horror of

Reconstruction and fights it as the basis for the unpleasant relationship between the races in the Southern states today. This is the catastrophe theory of the South, as opposed to the extreme claims made by Negro chauvinists concerning the great contributions to democracy offered by the black legislators. Even the Southern white liberal accepts at face value this interpretation

of the terror visited upon the South when the Negro exercised political power during Reconstruction. There is enough evidence now unearthed to present a reasonable picture of what actually did transpire. In the first place, there was no “black domination.” The Reconstruction governments in the South

were essentially army-of-occupation governments, for the Southern region was a conquered country and was treated as such. The all-pervading influence was the victorious armed force of the North as symbolized by federal troops. The Reconstruction governments were not Negro governments; they were

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 17 Negro-carpetbagger-scalawag governments operating under the shadow of Northern dominance. Nor was there any dictatorship of the black proletariat in the Reconstruction period, as Du Bois suggests in his Black Reconstruction.’ Nor, for that matter, was there a dictatorship of the white proletariat, as he also suggests. The Reconstruction governments in the South were supported by the Northern military arm and served the interests of the industrial North. The newly

freed black had no working class consciousness; in fact, no class consciousness at all. His thinking was tied to the land, to “forty acres and a mule,” and he certainly had no proletarian consciousness. His psychology, even after emancipation, was that of the serf or, at best, the peasant. The poor white was beginning to develop a class consciousness but was inarticulate and played only a feeble role in the political drama of the period.

The white South, while ostensibly remaining aloof from and indifferent to the new political order created by the Radical Republican Congresses, set itself with firm determination to the task of reestablishing the old order and putting the Negro back in his place. It was during these days that the Ku Klux Klan had its inception and that the whole process of shameful intimidation and deprival of the Negro began. The Southerners were determined to block the constructive transition of the black man’s status from that of slave to citizen. Following the short political honeymoon of the Negro during the Reconstruction period, there ensued a severe time of reac-

tion. The essential feature of this era is found in the fact that the North left the Negro to the mercy of an embittered South. It was a period of political and social flux in the South, of political jockeying, of bitterness, of class conflict and vengefulness. It was during these years that the South began to manufacture the devices which have been employed successfully to put the _ Negro back in his place. The Negro bore the brunt of the political attack, for the black man was the symbol of the South’s humiliation. After 1877 the Southern conservatives were able to put through the reforms they thought best. Then, too, the turn in national affairs was a further boost to the reestablishment of white supremacy. National problems, such as the agricultural 1. William E. B. Du Bois, Black Reconstruction: An Essay toward a History of the Part which Black Folk Played in the Attempt to Reconstruct Democracy, 1860—1888 (New York, 1935).

18 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

depression, claimed the attention of Congress. Little by little the

restrictions on the South disappeared. It is also important to 7 note that the courts were handing down decisions which had the effect of pulling the teeth of the suffrage amendment and the Civil Rights Act. In general terms, the Supreme Court laid down the principle that neither the Fifteenth Amendment nor its enforcing acts implied any positive grant of suffrage. In their efforts to insure the permanence of white supremacy and to eliminate the Negro vote as a serious factor in political affairs, the Democrats of the South adopted almost every conceivable measure that might tend to accomplish this purpose. To many white Southerners, the partisan election laws, poll tax

requirements, and the irregular practices which were used at the polls were not enough assurance of maintaining white supremacy. In order further to safeguard this concept, the gerry- | mander was frequently used. Legislative and congressional districts were set up with the definite purpose of insuring a Democratic majority. In 1882, for example, the legislature of South Carolina so gerrymandered that state that the Republicans could control but one of the seven congressional districts. The same device was used in arranging legislative districts. Another method used by the Democrats to frustrate the will of the black majorities in counties where Negroes outnumbered whites

, was that of centralized state government. So long as the whites stuck together, the Democratic control of the legislatures was assured. This made the highly centralized state government method very effective. In order to put this policy into effect, the legislature of North Carolina passed a county government law

in 1876. This act provided for the election of justices of the peace by the legislature. In turn, the justices of the peace were to elect from three to five persons from their respective counties to act as a board of commissioners. Thus, the chief county officers were appointed rather than elected by the people.

Negroes continued to go to the Southern polls in the late 1870s and the 1880s, but their numbers declined steadily. For example, the number of black votes between 1876 and 1884 in South Carolina, Louisiana, and Mississippi suffered a drastic drop. The Negro vote was cut by one-half in South Carolina, by

about one-third in Louisiana, and by about one-fourth in Mississippi.

The agrarian upheaval and the rise of the Populist party had a profound effect upon Negro suffrage and, in the long run, contributed much to the complete disfranchisement of Negroes in

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 19 the Southern states. The economic distress of the region’s farmers, coupled with the conservative and business-oriented leadership of the Bourbon regimes in the South, eventually inspired a widespread political rebellion. The poor white population began to assert itself and to demand a voice in the political controls of

the section. It began to develop a new group and class consciousness, and to produce its own leadership. Often meeting with an inhospitable reception in the conservative Democratic party, the leadership of the upsurging white masses began to flirt with the idea of an alliance with the blacks as a means of crashing through the established order. The repressive activities against Negroes in the 1890s and early 1900s were stimulated not by fear of the Negro but by fear of the unity of blacks and whites. The Negro, by this time, was no longer a menace; he had been thoroughly suppressed. Populism flared up in the Southern states, but only briefly. It had neither the force nor the leadership to overcome the deeply entrenched opposition of the ruling order. The agrarian revolt did precipitate many bitter fights between the white factions of

the Southern states. During these political battles, both sides often appealed to the Negro voters in order to overcome the opposition. After each election, although both factions had appealed to and even used the black vote, the losing faction made definite attempts further to disfranchise the Negro and condemned the opposition for seeking the black vote. During these fights between the old party machines and the restless agrarians, election practices of the Reconstruction and “redemption” eras

reappeared. There were riots at the polls, ballot boxes were stuffed, meetings were broken up, and repeaters were put into circulation. Ballots were thrown out on technicalities and, in general, the political situation in the South took on a very unpleasant odor. The rise of the Populists seemed to result in the fulfillment of the predictions of the old Democratic leaders who had often said that all their statutory provisions would be inade-

quate to keep Negroes disfranchised if a split occurred in the white ranks. Thus, the Populist revolt furnished new reasons for dealing harshly with Negro voters. Effective—and legal—disfranchise-

ment became an important factor in helping to reunite the white South in the wake of the divisions of the late nineteenth

century. Beginning with Mississippi in 1890 and including ~ seven other Southern states by 1910, ingenious disfranchising provisions were made a part of the organic law. These clever

20 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

provisions circumvented the prohibitions of the Fifteenth Amendment and, on the surface, safeguarded the white voter. Many of the South’s leading politicians contended that the admission of Negroes to the polls was tantamount to opening the

door to all sorts of fraud. Those who subscribed to this view .

claimed that as long as there were black voters, they would be sought by the whites as political allies and oftentimes the methods adopted to gain their support would be corrupt. Therefore, the only alternative to corruption and fraud was the complete disfranchisement of the Negro and a return to white solidarity. In the light of these contentions and the seeming unanimity on the subject of Negro suffrage among white Southerners, one might have predicted that the disfranchising provisions would be passed with little or no difficulty. The fact is, however, that the campaigns were heated and the debates were long and extremely controversial. This situation resulted from the fact that the erstwhile Populists could not easily forget that the earlier restrictive legislation, which had been directed at the Negro, had been used to good advantage against them in their political struggles. With this in mind the whites who had been political irregulars saw in the new and highly complicated election machinery and qualifications the very imminent possibility that those in power would use the proposed devices to disfranchise any dissenter—whether Negro or white. But against the hard reasoning of skeptics who saw such dangerous possibilities, the

experienced Southern Bourbon politicians hurled the evereffective argument of “black domination.” Although the fears of

the opposition were never quite dispelled, race feeling triumphed, and the disfranchising amendments were adopted. An examination of the disfranchising amendments adopted by the various Southern states reveals a striking similarity in the essential features of the acts. Each contains an educational pre-

requisite for voting, which is usually the ability to read a sec-

tion of the state or federal constitution, and to write one’s

name. Poll taxes or other taxes had to be paid by the applicant for registration. It was necessary to register months ahead of elections, and a receipt for taxes paid had to be shown to registration and election officials. The property qualification was a new feature. This usually ran to two or three hundred dollars. One or more alternatives were usually provided for this qualification. Literacy was one of these. Another was the “understanding” clause, which usually called for the ability to interpret the state or federal constitution to the satisfaction of election offi-

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 21 cers. In some cases “good character” might qualify one for registration and voting, but it had to be substantiated by sworn testi-_ .

monials, by proof of steady employment during a specified preceding period, or by an affidavit giving the names of employers for a period of from three to five years. The property and literacy qualifications automatically eliminated large numbers of

Negroes, and the alternatives which were generally provided were easily manipulated by the election officials so as to operate to the disadvantage of black applicants. A further impediment took the form of residence requirements and a list of disqualifying crimes, which were supposedly peculiar to the Negro’s low

economic and social status. The crowning glory of constitutional disfranchisement was the grandfather clause, which was the safeguard for the poor and illiterate whites. As might be expected, the various disfranchising acts of the Southern states have been the subject of numerous court battles. Time and time again, Negroes have sought to test the con-

stitutionality of the disfranchising measures. Almost without exception, the state courts in the South have tolerated and even abetted the process of disfranchisement. Up to the year 1915, the Supreme Court of the United States generally followed the practice of the Southern state courts. The hands-off attitude of the Northern people toward the discriminatory treatment of Negroes in the South was reflected in its decisions. On numerous occasions, direct decisions on many of the Southern suffrage laws were evaded, and, instead, evasive and often tech-

nical constructions were placed upon the Fourteenth and Fifteenth amendments by the court. Since 1915, the court has shown some inclination to look beyond the letter to the spirit of the law, but the Southern legislators have been crafty and thus far have been able to discriminate against what they choose to call the Negroes’ characteristics rather than against them as a race. In the first three decades of the present century the Negro vote in the South was negligible, as Paul Lewinson shows in Race, Class and Party.? While not minimizing the importance of the disfranchising amendments, it should be noted that the most effective disfranchising weapon—and the one which has had the most permanence—is not expressly formulated in the laws of the states. This is the “white primary.” The effectiveness 2. Paul Lewinson, Race, Class and Party: A History of Negro Suffrage and White Politics in the South (New York, 1932).

22, THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

of this color bar was detected early by white Southerners. During one of the debates on proposed disfranchisement clauses, an opponent of the proposal contended that they were unnecessary,

since the white primary was already taking care of the black vote very effectively. Small wonder that the Negro, continually turned away from participation in the only real elections, and denied registration by “impartial” registrars, frequently made no effort to vote. In addition to these conditions, it was clearly

| brought home to even those Negroes who were still active in | the most ineffective Republican party that they were not wanted in any political circles. This realization came with the adoption of lily-white policies by the party which has been traditionally regarded as the sole political hope of the black citizens of the South. The severe rebuff given to the high hopes of Negroes in the period of reaction following Reconstruction led to disillusionment and ultimately to an attitude approaching resignation and

fatalism. The last quarter of the nineteenth century was a period of decreasing political activity for Negroes, and black leaders sought to discover a new line and a new direction. This quickly took the form of a philosophy of conciliation, which involved a recognition of the supremacy of the dominant white population and of the inferior caste status of the Negro. The philosophy of the Negro in this period reveals itself as a somewhat strange admixture of futility and hope, and it was given its proper refinement through the lips of Booker T. Washington.

The political aspirations of the Negro came to be regarded as chimerical, and he was directed to other channels of activity, such as the economic, in which he would be able through thrift, industry, and vocational skill to win for himself strength and respect in the community. The Negro reluctantly accepted his removal from political affairs and attempted to make the best of it.

Several exclusively Negro communities grew up in the South during this period. These were so uncommon, however, as to

remain more or less freakish developments on the American scene, and their indifferent success has caused them to attract but slight attention. Perhaps their real significance is only to be found in the fact that there was no genuine encouragement for the creation of separate black communities by the white South. This might have been one form of compromise solution for the problem of interracial hostility. The question might be raised as to why no more serious pro-

THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 23 posals were made for the repatriation of the Negro to Africa or his expatriation and settlement elsewhere. Why was there so much insistence on keeping the Negro in his place instead of thinking in terms of getting rid of him altogether, especially in view of the fact that he was no longer available to the South as slave labor but was thrown into competition with the Southern white worker in the open market? A good part of the explanation

is to be found, of course, in the fact that the white worker who had to compete against the Negro had very little to say about Southern policy in this period, since politics was largely out of his hands. Those who controlled Southern politics were those who controlled the Southern land, and in their view the Negro

was still very much needed if the cotton culture was to be preserved. The thinking of the South in this period seems to have moved

within an extremely narrow channel—simply that while the Negro must be “kept in his place” socially, politically, and economically, he should remain as an essential exploitable element in the Southern population. It might have been possible, in this era, to have created a separate Negro state or states, or to have

set up separate black communities within white states, but it seems quite certain that any such proposals would have been vigorously opposed by those whites who held the political reins of the South.

THREE

Politics in the Contemporary South POLITICALLY and economically the South is essentially an oligarchy. At no time in the region’s history has the great mass of

- poor whites been articulate or influential. The voice of the South, as expressed through the Democratic party, has never truly represented any groups but the white middle and upper classes. The effective political control of the South has been in the hands of the large landholders, the bankers, and the powerful corporations. These are the groups that are responsible for the limited exercise of the franchise by both whites and blacks in the region and that profit from the position of strategic power | which the South holds in national politics. These modern Bourbons have many influential representatives in the national government, including John N. Garner, Byron Patton Harrison, Harry Flood Byrd, and Carter Glass. The limited franchise in the

South—the fact that so large a portion of the Southern white population itself is disfranchised—lends itself to oligarchical control. Legislators are largely subject to the will of these conservative influences, and this accounts for the fact that there is so little liberalism in Southern politics and so little progressivism in the field of social legislation. In many counties in the South, politics are dominated by the few large landholding families. In other counties the dominating influence is the large corporations, the great mine operators, or the factory owners. In some instances these interests play a direct role in local politics; in others their influence is exerted indirectly. But in either case candidates are too often re-

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Restrictions on Voting

THE disfranchising devices employed in the South should be treated both historically and in terms of their present operation and effect. Attention should be devoted to such measures as the grandfather clause (which was finally outlawed by the Supreme Court); the white primaries (including the decisions in the Texas primary cases ); the peculiar arrangement that exists in the ward clubs of South Carolina; the constitutional clauses, with their weird interpretations and variations; the characterwitness requirements and their varied usage, especially in Alabama; property tests; disqualifying crimes; residence requirements; and the arbitrary requirement with respect to filling in application blanks accurately, including the “age trick” in Louisiana. Note must also be made of the exemption clauses, their effects upon Negro and white groups, and the use of alternatives. The analysis would not be complete if some attention were not given to intimidation and other extralegal methods of barring blacks from the polls. All of these aspects of Southern politics are revealed in the various chapters of part 2 of this memorandum. An effort is made to give a general picture of the Southern political process as it impinges upon the Negro, with | particular attention to the looseness in the administration of registration and voting laws when applied to whites as against the rigid and severe application of the same laws to Negroes. The registrars generally interpret the law for themselves. The result is a lax and easygoing attitude toward white registrants. _

In one state it is required that all members of the registration | board be present when a registrant is accepted, but this is ob47

48 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

served in the breach rather than the practice, and it is generally laughed at by the board members. It is a widespread practice for

registrars to make out the applications for their white registrants “in order to save time” and also to save many illiterate whites from embarrassment. Literacy or constitutional interpretation tests are seldom administered to white registrants, though these tests are often given in most severe form to Negro applicants. Purging of the registration lists is generally a purely

hit-or-miss affair, and in some counties little or no purging is done, even for crime. In some instances the names of people serving terms for felonies are kept on the lists by registrars who wish to avoid “having trouble” with these people when they are returned to society and wish to resume their citizenship privileges. Yet even prominent Negroes in the same community are registered, if at all, only through the indulgence of the registrar. The members of the boards of registrars are themselves very mediocre people. In many cases they are barely literate. They know little or nothing about the law they are to administer, and for the most part take their responsibilities very lightly except when they are “troubled” by Negro applicants. In the rural areas they are usually people who have done some campaigning for the “right person.” In big-city counties such as Jefferson, Alabama, where Birmingham is located, the chairman of the board of registrars will usually be a professional politician. The registration procedure for white applicants is usually simpler in practice than is required by law. In many instances itis not even necessary for a person to sign his or her own name. It is rare that any white applicant is turned down, except perhaps in a large city such as New Orleans, where the administration of the law is more impersonal. In some cases white applicants may be rejected because they are thought not to be likely

for whites. ,

to “vote right.” But, in general, Southern registration is no ordeal

Perhaps the greatest complication is the registration periods, which are fixed by law and, in such states as Alabama, technically come only at scattered intervals. But these provisions are not infrequently ignored, and, moreover, the registrars are often required to make things convenient for the registrants by going on circuit, as in Alabama, thus taking the registration books to

the people. On the whole, however, the people take little advantage of this service, both because of lack of sufficient notice

and because they prefer to use the occasion of registration as another excuse for paying a visit to the county seat.

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH 49 The lack of any close check on the transfer of voters from one county to another frequently makes it possible for a person to cast ballots in two or more counties. This is now possible in Georgia, largely because of the indifference and inefficiency of the county registration officials. South Carolina has perhaps the most complicated registration system, since there are not only separate registration requirements for city, county, and school

trustee elections, but also for participation in the Democratic primary. This last is provided for through “enrollment” in the Democratic ward or precinct clubs, which is merely a matter of signing the enrollment book, or having someone sign one’s name in it. The so-called clubs are mere shadow organizations whose

officers are responsible for the local enrollment books and for selecting delegates to the county Democratic conventions. At one time the tendency was rather general in the South to apply the voting qualification tests—literacy and constitutional

interpretation—to all applicants. Thousands of whites who could not slip under the wire by meeting such requirements, even when leniently applied, were enfranchised by a clever device employed in one form or another by most Southern states —the “grandfather clause.” This provided that any man, or the descendant of any man, who had served in one of a number of specified wars (or, in some states, who had been a voter before 1867) was eligible to register and vote. This was a remarkable instrument, cut exactly to the South’s needs, since it kept out

Negroes and admitted even the most backward and illiterate whites. It was not difficult for any Southern white to dig up some kind of a soldier ancestor. The Supreme Court eventually declared the grandfather clause unconstitutional, and the South has now adopted the simple expedient of providing alternative methods of qualifying. But in the administration of the laws, the qualification tests are applied to Negroes only. The registration of Negroes in some places in the South, even in the Deep South, is permitted without much difficulty, unless

too many blacks present themselves during any given period. The white primary effectively prevents them from casting any real vote and there is often no serious objection by local whites to a token Negro vote in the general elections. This is not considered “dangerous.”

No one knows how many of the approximately nine million Negroes in the Southern states are registered to vote. The number is more than it was a year ago, two years ago, or five years ago, but the increase has been slow. And in one instance a sud-

20 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

den increase of black voters brought threats of violence. But that was in Miami, Florida, in the most Southern of the “Dixie” states, which is at the same time the most overrun with Northerners. Typical Deep South states like Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Mississippi have had slight trouble on this score because the number of Negroes registered there is negligible. (Yet Greenville, South Carolina, had a “Negro scare” last year. )

| Those Negroes who do register in these states are barred from participation in practically all elections that amount to anything. To a great extent, the ability of Negroes to get registered in any particular locality in the South depends upon the attitude

| of local registrars. A given registrar may be much more favorably disposed toward black registration than his predecessor or his successor. The general tendency, however, is for all Southern registrars to oppose wholesale Negro registration. We can be quite sure that, if we except a few large cities such

as Memphis, there is no large registration of Negroes in the South. But it is virtually impossible to say just how many Negroes are registered voters below the Mason-Dixon line. The

oe only way to get an accurate estimate in any given county in the region would be to go to the courthouse and count the Negro names on the registration books. Even this might not be entirely accurate, for it has been found that these books are very carelessly kept. In some few instances, George Stoney even dis- covered that the telltale “colored” appeared after the names of white people in the registration records. The estimates given by

| the various county officials are often at wide variance, despite the fact that the number of Negro registrants is never large. Negro efforts to be registered are usually described by the registration officials in the South as “trouble.” Most of the ofhcials simply take it for granted that black applicants ought to be rejected. All sorts of handy rationalizations are available to | support this view. The registrars are also generally able to make very fine distinctions between the “types” of Negroes who pre-

sent themselves, often admitting that certain of the “better class” blacks ought to be put on the books. There is a much better chance that a “big” local Negro will get on the registration

| lists than for a common, obscure Negro to succeed.

a The basis for the decision of the registrar, with regard to Negro registration, is frequently explained in terms of how “the white people in the county feel about it.” Often it is enough to justify rejection in the minds of the officials to explain that

the people in the county—meaning the white people—

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH ol “wouldn’t stand for it.” Some Southern registrars are very boastful about the discretionary power vested in their office, and one

went so far as to boast that he had it within his power to keep the President of the United States from registering if he should choose to do so. It will be noted, in going through the excerpts from the field notes, that Southern election and tax officials fre- quently prove to be very inconsistent in their statements, making one assertion to one interviewer and a contradictory one to

another. Not infrequently the contradictory statements are made to the same interviewer.

The social situation and mores of the South create an atmosphere of essential intimidation for the Negro registrant who presents himself to what must always be presumed to be hostile officials—not to mention the fact that he or she must often run the horrible gauntlet of the leering hangers-on who habitually loaf about the courthouse offices in the Southern county seats. The very attitude of hostility manifested by the white population in many Southern communities is itself an intimidating factor operating to discourage Negroes from applying for registration or seeking to go to the polls. Sometimes the registrars go to elaborate extremes in order to work out means of rejecting Negro applicants for registra-

tion. Lawyers are consulted in order to draw up lists of questions : designed to make it possible “legally” to reject black applicants. The requirement that the registrant must produce two responsi-

ble character witnesses or endorsers, as in Alabama, is an effective means of limiting Negro registration. This qualification becomes extremely difficult when, by interpretation of the local officials, the Negro applicant is required to produce two white endorsers. It is also a simple matter for the white registrars to

tell Negro applicants that the registration blanks have “given | out,” that it is “closing time,” or that one or another member of the board is not present. In some instances the Negro applicant is told to fill out his blank and to file it, and that he will be notified when to come for an examination. Unless he happens to be a prominent Negro, no such notice is ever received.

There are many humiliations connected with registration, CO even when the Negro applicant has reason to believe that he will not be rejected. Frequently he will have to wait until all white applicants have been attended to. He may be insulted when spoken to by the officials, and he may have to listen to the

intentional taunts of officials, clerks, and bystanders. He may be told several times to come back. The registrars customarily

O2, THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

make favorable “presumptions” on behalf of white registrants, as, for example, with respect to the Alabama property requirement, while applying the provisions of the law quite strictly to

Negro applicants. The same is true of literacy and constitutional interpretation tests. Southern registration officials commonly explain the amazing absence of Negro names from the registration rolls by stating that blacks “just don’t care to register.” In many respects this is true. In the first place, Negroes are intimidated, afraid to step out of their “place,” and reluctant to face the hostility of the registration office. In the second place, they realize that registration which permits voting only in the general elections is an empty gesture. In the third place, they can ill afford to pay the poll tax, and when they can afford it, they are not eager to pay out money for a meaningless privilege. The only true test of Negro voting interest in the South would be the Negro’s attitude if an opportunity to vote in the Democratic primaries presented itself. Because of the significance of the white primary to Southern politics, it is customary for a great many Negroes in the South, even though extended the privilege of registration —which permits them to vote only in the general elections or, in some instances, in local elections—to take the attitude of “what's the use?” In those places where Negroes are allowed to register without much hindrance, it is difficult to say whether the absence of obstacles is due to the fact that few Negroes present themselves because of their indifference toward voting in the general election, or whether it is to be accounted for by the fact that the whites are willing to permit Negroes to register for such elections in the knowledge that the white primary will pre-

vent them from playing any significant role in politics. In some instances Southern registrars disclaim any intention to discriminate against Negro applicants, and insist that Neeroes are treated in quite the same manner as whites. In a great many cases, however, the registrars frankly admit that differential treatment is given Negro applicants and that it is their intent, and the desire of the white community—a desire that they are more than eager to translate into action—to keep any large number of Negro registrants off the books. All sorts of technicalities are invoked to disqualify black applicants. It is frequently made clear that the Negro ought to have “better sense” than to try to register in such a hostile environment. Those God-fearing Southerners who tremble at the trend toward increasing recognition of the Negro’s political rights will

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH O3 take any doubting Thomas to North Carolina’s magnificent cap-

itol building in Raleigh and point knowingly to nicks in the marble steps. The places were chipped out, they will explain, by liquor kegs which the boisterous Negro legislators of Reconstruction days rolled down the steps. It is intimated that some of the legislators rolled down too, but whether they left any nicks is not recorded. Some of the stories enthusiastically related by the old-time politicians in the South, who claim to have engaged in “nigger vote buying” and “nigger vote stealing” in the “old days,” are lewd and exciting. These men like to tell

of the fights that broke out over the attempts to steal the “nigger vote,” of how their black votes were bought with liquor and women, and of how they led the Negro voters along with music like the Pied Piper of Hamlin. High-jacking the other man’s black voters was a vital part of this process. It is not uncommon to find Negroes in the South who accept the white man’s picture of the horror of Negro domination during Reconstruction days and after, and who point, as the whites do, to the abuse of the ballot by the Negroes in this period as the explanation of black disfranchisement today.

Some Southern officials contend rather ludicrously that “clean government” in the South dates from the disfranchisement of the Negro and that the disbarment of blacks from the polls remains essential to the continuance of pure politics in the region. Some Southern election officers, however, are some-

times frank and honest enough to state that the way in which Negroes were “bought up” in the days before Negro disfranchisement is not a bit worse than the way in which white votes are bought up by poll tax payments today. Some go so far as to say that the buying up of votes today is much more flagrant. Fraud in elections is an evil familiar to politics throughout the country. But the South, with characteristic ingenuity, has contributed some picturesque touches peculiarly its own. Votes are controlled and checked by registration slips, the “chain letter” system, vote buying, poll tax payment, double voting, vote stealing, “counting out” unfortunate candidates, employment of “agents” to sign up voters, and many variations of these meth-

ods. Whether or not all of the stories that one hears about vote stealing and “counting out” candidates in the South are true, they are told regularly enough, and by enough responsible people, to have some element of validity. The number and power of black voters in the South is generally exaggerated fantastically, and stories of the “hundreds” or

o4 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

“thousands” of Negroes who are voting in one place or another go the rounds and are recounted daily among the ranks of the courthouse fence-sitters and tobacco juice—spitters. In the eight most hard-bitten anti-Negro-vote states—Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas—there are certainly never more than 80,000 to 90,000 Negro votes cast, at a liberal estimate, and scarcely any of these

} are cast in the Democratic primaries. If the milder “border” states of Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee are included, another 100,000 to 115,000 black votes would be added. But

, the sum total of the Negro vote would be but a drop in the political bucket even for these eleven small-voting states, eight of which are still poll-tax-ridden. Negroes constitute only 295 percent of the population of Arkansas, and though they are a ma-

jority in not a single congressional district of that state, the threat of black political domination was employed effectively

there to aid in the defeat of the poll tax reform movement. | Louisiana did away with the poll tax requirement, and yet less

| than 1 percent of its Negro population votes. North Carolina has

not had the poll tax requirement since 1920, and yet only a relative handful (not over 50,000 by the most liberal estimate ) of

the Negroes in the state vote. Not many more than 1,500 Neeroes voted in 1936 in the entire state of Alabama, despite the fact that some 18,000 Negro veterans are included in the state’s

blanket exemption of World War veterans from poll tax payment. Perhaps the most effective of the special devices employed against Negroes is the literacy test—a test that is seldom applied to white registrants. Negro electors are required to “read, write, and explain” any passage of the state or federal constitution which the registrar may select—and to the satisfaction of the registrar. Since the registrar is the sole arbiter, any Negro can be disqualified, no matter what his training or knowledge may be. Negro college professors, some of them in Virginia,

| have been turned away from the polls under this procedure. The , hopeful Negro applicant may be required to go out and get some _ responsible white man who will be willing to come in and vouch

, for him. This often means that unless a Negro has won a local reputation among the “responsible whites” for his timidity,

tractability, humility, and general Uncle-Tomishness, it will be impossible for him to think of casting a ballot. If all else fails, the Southern community can always rely upon the very effective instrument of intimidation. Usually, it would be enough to

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH OO inform the individual Negro that the white community would not “think well’ of his efforts to vote, or that it would not be “healthy” for him to attempt it. In some instances, as in Miami, the Negro population, under able organizational leadership, has refused to be intimidated and has thrown the challenge back into the teeth of such organizations as the Ku Klux Klan, which have tried to frighten Negroes away from the polls.

Emphatic notice must be taken of the insistently uttered “fear” of the white South at the possible consequences of Negro voting. When analyzed, this is found to be not a fear of Negro political domination through exercise of the ballot, but rather a

fear, held by the “in” groups, that the black vote—that is, the Negro tenants on the plantations and the Negro employees in the mills and factories—would be used by the “outs” to bring about a shift in political power and control. Most of those we talked with in our interviews expressed the view that the white South is now in position to “take care of” the Negro handily enough and that there would be no valid fear of an independent Negro vote. Thus the fear is not one of black domination at all, but a fear of rival white domination, in a political game in which the Negro voter is only a pawn. Among Southern officials the feeling is found, quite in accord with the well-established stereotypes, that the Negroes’ efforts to vote are largely the result of the influence of “uppity” Negroes

from the North. The attitude often expressed is that local Negroes would have better sense than to try. In other instances

“Northern radical organizations,” such as the NAACP, are charged with the responsibility for stirring up blacks and putting false notions in their heads. The conviction often seems ereat that the local Negroes, left alone, are quite content with things as they are and have no desire to bother with politics. It is common to hear responsible white Southerners point to Memphis as a horrible example of what would happen if the Negro is given the vote in the South. They argue that the Negro is too poor and too ignorant to exercise the ballot intelligently and independently, and that he would be preyed upon by venal political machines. If pressed, some of them will go so far as to admit that the same argument applies to the poor whites in the South, and not a few of them really feel that the region would be better off if lower class whites also did not vote. A few are

frank enough to admit that they are against the repeal of the poll tax for just this reason. Some Southern politicians are quite pragmatic on the question of Negro voting. Their sole objection

o6 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

to the enfranchisement of the Negro, they admit, is that it

would increase the size of the electorate and thus make it more expensive for a candidate to get elected or for a machine to per-

petuate itself in power, since there would be black as well as white votes to be bought. The objection of many politicians to the repeal of the poll tax is pitched on the same level. Not infrequently there is violent contrast between the attitudes of officials in the same county toward the Negro vote. This

is the case, for instance, in Macon County, Alabama, where Tuskegee Institute and the Negro Veterans’ Hospital are located.

Whites in the South often explain that, where there is resentment toward black registration and voting, Negroes do not attempt it for fear that they will stir up racial animosity in the community and that this will affect them injuriously in other ways. [his is undoubtedly true, and it follows a well-established pattern used as a guide by many members of minority groups. The pattern is that rights and privileges should never be demanded, and may even be refused by minority groups when such action might intensify racial feeling. The subject of the poll tax, if treated at all comprehensively, would constitute a large study in itself. An attempt is made here

only to undertake an analysis of the poll tax in those states where it is retained as a qualification for voting, primarily in terms of its practical operations and its broad social implications for both whites and blacks. Historically, the poll tax has long been in use in the United States—though not essentially as a voting requirement, except for a brief period at the beginning of the nineteenth century— and since the 1890s in the South. The tax, employed exclusively

as a revenue measure, is still found in some of our Northern states, but it is to the eight Southern “poll tax” states where it is related to voting that our attention will be focused. Greatest emphasis must necessarily be given to the effect of the tax on the poor whites of the South. There is reason to suspect that the poll

tax, as a voting qualification, was instituted not only with the intention of disfranchising the Negro, but with the conscious purpose of limiting the power of that great mass of poor whites which threatened the hegemony of the Southern ruling classes. As a result of the vigorous campaigns to abolish the poll tax in recent years, led by such organizations as the Southern Conference for Human Welfare, there is a considerable amount of data now becoming available concerning the effect of the tax upon the white population of the South.

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH ov The poll tax problem is closely tied up with the problem of machine politics. In the poll tax states, the machines regularly and frequently buy up votes by paying the poll taxes of the voters, and there are unquestionably many white people in the South who have voted regularly but have rarely paid their own tax. Since great numbers of the potential voters in the poll tax states are unable to pay their own taxes because of their low

income, the political machines and the politicians who run them have the local voting situation well in hand, and need pay the tax only for enough voters to control the election. The cumulative feature of the tax in some states is particularly burden-

some upon the voter, and there are instances of people who have had to pay thirty or forty dollars or more in order to be eli-

gible to vote. There are other cases in which politicians have bought up blocks of poll tax receipts in advance and distributed them to their cohorts during the registration or election periods. It is not unusual in the poll tax states for factories, and especially textile mills, to urge their employees to pay the poll tax, register, and vote. In some cases there have been deliberate efforts on the part of the mill managements to influence or even control the votes of their employees. Unless union organization is well entrenched, ordinarily a “suggestion” on how to vote from the foreman is enough to intimidate the workers. In some

instances the companies have gone so far as to employ the check-off system in order to make certain that their workers are paid up. This practice is always explained as being done in behalf of the employee, who may thus reimburse the company in installments.

The poll tax, as a device for the perpetuation of a political machine, is closely linked with vice rings. This is to be expected, since the local political machines and the vice rings so often work hand in glove. Thus, the poll tax is a fertile source of corruption, political and otherwise. In a few cases this unwholesome product of the poll tax requirement has been exposed, notably in Hot Springs, Arkansas. The poll tax in the South also has a direct bearing upon the election of delegates to the presidential nominating conventions. Only recently it was revealed that complaints had been made to the Senate Special Elections Committee concerning the nuisance of poll tax payments in connection with the naming of delegates to the national convention. How important this is in the national political process is demonstrated by the fact that Senator Robert A. Taft, when seeking the Republican

08 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

nomination for the presidency, consistently refused to run in any of the states in which preferential primary elections for the presidential conventions were held, but chose to work industriously to “line up” the Republican delegations from the Southern

states. The votes of these Southern Republican delegations— most of which are now completely lily-white—can be readily bought.

There are suggestions of a suspicious relationship between payment of the poll tax and Works Progress Administration em-

ployment in some parts of the South. Our field note materials have indicated that, in some places at least, local WPA officials have applied pressure to induce WPA employees to pay the tax and presumably to “vote right” in the forthcoming election. Data to prove a case of this wind is lacking, but it is certainly a question that can be seriously raised. In connection with this, it must be pointed out that there is virtually no such thing as the secret ballot in a great many Southern elections.

The poll tax requirement keeps the electorate small, and a small electorate is easily dominated by vested interests which are desirous always of maintaining the status quo. South Carolina, which is at present none too ably represented by Senator “Cotton Ed” Smith, has sent as little as 6.1 percent of its population to the polls to vote. The Southern demagogue has learned well the trick of posing as the plain and simple representative of “the people” while actually representing the entrenched interests of wealth and political power which alone are responsible for putting him in office. It is not without significance, also,

that in spite of the much heralded fact that poll tax revenues are turned into educational channels, the poll tax states rank among the lowest in the nation in education. No other states are so backward with respect to social legislation as these Southern states. This is entirely understandable in view of the fact that the common men—the very people whose interests would be served by social legislation, by laws to protect labor, the sharecropper, and the tenant farmer— are precisely the people who find it most difficult to spare the money for the poll tax, and who are thus involuntarily disfranchised. The poll tax is, of course, an additional barrier to the exercise of the franchise by Negroes in the South. It is not the only bar-

rier, nor is it the most significant. Yet in most Southern states it imposes a discouraging burden on the use of the ballot in the only elections in which any appreciable number of Negroes are permitted to vote, that is, the general elections. But the gen-

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH o9 eral elections are ordinarily mere gestures in the South, and so depriving the Negro of the right to vote in these elections is not, under present political conditions in the region, depriving him of very much. It is something more than a mere catch-phrase to say of the South and its poll tax provisions that it is the registrar —and the Democratic party officials who set the qualifications for voting in the primary—who disfranchises the Negro, while the tax collector disfranchises the (poor) white man. Indeed, the fact that the poll tax can be employed to keep “undesirable” white voters from the polls is cited by many as a strong argu-

ment in favor of its retention. One of the most specious and cruel contentions is that which claims that one’s willingness to pay a one or two dollar poll tax in order to vote is a sound test of

good citizenship. Those who take this position in the face of known economic poverty of the South’s millions willingly evade the question of ability to pay. There is no fair test possible today of the political interest of the mass population of the South. It is quite impossible to gauge the relative interest or indifference of this population, both black and white, for the obvious reason that many thousands of voters

in the Southern poll tax states are utterly unable to get their hands on the necessary cash with which to pay the tax. Thousands of others, who do handle some cash during the poll tax season, are simply unable to spare enough to pay the tax without cruel deprivation. In many families no member is “paid up”; in others one member, usually the head of the household, is or has at some time been paid up, but it cannot be afforded for the

other members. It is a rare family of ordinary means in the Southern states in which multiple voting is found, except where interested third parties oblige by paying the taxes for them.

Certainly the poll tax disfranchises immeasurably more whites than blacks. For it is the poll tax alone that keeps the great masses of white voters from the polls, while the black voter is denied the satisfaction of casting even a bought vote (except in a few cities like Memphis, where the Negro vote is herded and voted by the political machine ). Thus, for the most part, the Negro voter is spared the dubious pleasure of sharing

in the political corruption so characteristic of the poll tax

South. Yet the Negro has a deep political interest in the abolition of the poll tax provisions. Not only would this promise the possibil-

ity of more liberal and enlightened state administrations and

, lawmakers in the South, through the enfranchisement of the

60 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

masses of underprivileged whites, it would also promise to break the fatal grip which the small group of white Bourbons and their venal political henchmen have on the political and economic life of the region. The enfranchisement of the white masses would almost inevitably lead to the development of a vigorous and ultimately healthy political factionalism which would end the shameful one-party system. This would with equal certainty lead to the extension of the suffrage to Negroes. Wherever factionalism has developed among white Democrats (as in some counties in Texas ), the Negro, even under existing conditions, has been invited to the polls, even to the extent of participation in the Democratic primaries. Whatever the intent may be, it is easily demonstrable that the

poll tax is not, in practice, a test of fitness for voting. It is a serious obstacle to the poor but honest voter, while the venal and unprincipled voter has easy access to the polls because his tax is paid for him. This is true in all of the poll tax states today,

and statutes directed against such practices have proved ineffective. In Arkansas, Georgia, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia, there is ample evidence of the common practice of selling poll tax receipts in blank and in block to fictitious persons or to agents, later to be distributed and used by or on behalf of the _ dishonest voter. In spirit the poll tax laws are essentially suffrage laws. In the process of linking the poll tax payment with the vote, all of the poll tax states have enacted a number of statutes which have no ascertainable relationship to the collection of revenue, and which seem to have transformed the tax into a device for

the disfranchisement of hundreds of thousands of voters of both races. In the assessment and collection of the tax, certain practices must be considered as especially significant. In the first place, it should be noted that it is quite usual in the South for those responsible for the collection of the tax to speak of it not in terms of its collection, but rather in terms of “selling” poll taxes. Bills for the tax, once it has been assessed, are sent out

only in Arkansas and Texas, and, in some instances, in Virginia after three years.

On the basis of returns from questionnaires sent to the appropriate fiscal officer in each of the poll tax states, it must be concluded that the assessment of poll taxes—as officially reported—-is made only against a very small proportion of the citi-

zens in the age group liable. Strict enforcement provisions are retained on the statute books of Georgia, yet assessment of the

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH 61 poll tax is made against only about one-third of the assessable

population, and collection is made from an even lower percentage. The significance of the poll tax requirement to the voting of women is interesting. In some states, such as Georgia and Arkansas, it would appear that women are given an especial in-

ducement not to vote, since the law does not hold them liable for payment of the tax until they present themselves as voters. In Alabama, those women who do vote are held liable for payment of the tax only for the years since 1920. The close connec-

tion between poll tax payment and voting is demonstrated in the correlation it is possible to make between the varying interest in elections and the violent fluctuations in the amount of poll taxes collected. A valuable statistical analysis of this aspect of the problem could well be made, though I have been unable to tackle it. It should be emphasized that the poll tax states do not enforce collection of the levies and that it is really a voluntary payment

rather than a tax. Thus, the receipts from the poll tax in the eight Southern states requiring it as a prerequisite for voting are far below what they would otherwise be were it a capitation tax with enforced collection. The official figures on state suf-

frage tax receipts for 1936 are given as follows: Alabama, $306,675; Arkansas, $300,631; Georgia, $289,976; South Carolina, $255,419; Tennessee, $655,470; Texas, $1,685,244; and Virginia, $810,481. The figures for Mississippi were not available. ‘The figures on poll tax collections indicate clearly enough that it constitutes both a small and a very uncertain portion of the revenues available to the public schools. The two arguments most frequently encountered in support of retention of the poll tax as a qualification for voting in the Southern states are: (1) its abolition would lead to the undermining of white supremacy and bring on an immediate threat of Negro political domination; and (2) its abolition would lead to loss of revenue for the schools. When the fight to repeal the

poll tax in Arkansas reached the legislature of that state in 1938, the specious threat of black domination was used effectively to defeat the repeal attempt. The front pages of Arkansas newspapers carried editorials warning of the black horror that would be visited upon the state if the poll tax qualification were abolished.

Yet there is, in fact, no basis at all for this argument. In the first place, those states which have the poll tax qualification for voting are also the states which, for the most part, have the

62 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

closed, or “white,” primary. These are one-party states, and the nominees in their primaries become the officeholders without contest. South Carolina has a relatively low poll tax, which is administered very loosely and is not a requirement for voting in the Democratic primary. Yet South Carolina has the lowest voting percentage of any of the Southern states, not because of the poll tax, but because of the complications of its Democratic primaries and ward club membership requirements. Furthermore, in the states which have abandoned the poll tax prerequisite, the figures indicate conclusively that there has been no

significant increase in Negro voting after repeal. In North Carolina, for instance, the Democratic party, which has been the traditional “white party,” aetually made gains after repeal of the poll tax, cutting down the Republican vote from 42.7 per-

cent in 1920 to 33.3 percent in 1936. There are counties in which the black population is larger than the white, yet the repeal of the state’s poll tax has not brought about black domination of those counties. As for the argument that the schools will suffer from loss of poll tax revenues, there seems to be no foundation for such a contention. In the first place, the revenues from the poll taxes are not large. In no Southern state does the poll tax constitute a significant part of the state revenue. Alabama collects as little as 67 cents from the poll tax for every one hundred dollars of its total revenue. Virginia secured 1.86 percent of its revenue from the poll tax in 1937. In no poll tax state does the amount of tax collected add up to 5 percent of the total appropriation made for education. The poll tax, as a prerequisite to voting, is both a social and a political vice. Socially, it represents an open flouting of democratic principles. Politically, it has become a tool for corruption of the ballot by political machines, and it has failed woefully to produce a high quality of political leadership among the limited class in whose hands it restricts the franchise. Two significant attacks are currently being made upon the poll tax as a limita-

tion on the exercise of suffrage: (1) through a suit in the

federal courts attacking the constitutionality of the tax; and (2) through a congressional bill designed to permit voting in federal elections without payment of the tax. Several conclusions can be made with respect to the poll tax. First, the poll tax, employed as a qualification for voting, is a

development of the twentieth century and is peculiar to the American South. Second, the most significant result of the poll

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH 63 tax provisions has been the disfranchisement of great numbers

of poor whites in the South. Third, the new constitutions in which the poll tax provisions were incorporated were not popular constitutions and in some instances were actually “put over” on the population. In Mississippi and Virginia, for example, the

new constitutions were adopted by proclamation and were never submitted to the people for ratification. Fourth, in recent years vigorous efforts to do away with the poll tax restrictions on the franchise have developed in the Southern states. Fifth, the obstacles to abolition of the poll tax provisions by state action in many of these states are virtually insuperable. Sixth, the

restraint upon the franchise imposed by the poll tax and the disfranchisement of Negroes by registration devices and the “white primary” are complementary. Seventh, the representatives of the poll tax states exert an influence in the Democratic party in Congress and in national affairs wholly out of proportion to the voting population which they represent. Eighth, the introduction of the “threat” of Negro domination as an issue in the poll tax fight is sheer sophistry. Dishonest Southern politicians utilize the Negro issue as a means of maintaining themselves and their machines in power. There is only one Southern state—Mississippi—which now shows a Negro population of as much as 50 percent, and that proportion is steadily declining. This would seem to be an effective answer to the alleged “fear” of Southern whites that Negroes, if allowed to vote in the South, would capture political dominance. Statistical analyses in connection with poll tax payments and registration figures are made difficult by the fact that the local tax and registration records are in such bad shape. An analysis of change in the percentage of voting from one election to an-

other might yield some evidence on payment of poll taxes by candidates. Election reports for Louisiana [which has no poll tax] give data on the number of registrations by county, by race,

and by ability to write. A cursory examination indicates that there has been no large increase in the number of Negroes

registered. A further investigation of increases in white registrations by county might be made in order to determine whether the repeal of the poll tax resulted in an increase of regis-

tration in poorer counties and among persons unable to write. Similar analyses might be made of changes in the percentage of voting in various counties in North Carolina and Florida following the repeal of the poll tax in those states.

Our treatment of disfranchisement in the South has been

64 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

based upon an analysis and a summary of constitutional and statutory provisions as to suffrage in the Southern states, in conjunction with the related data concerning practices obtained in the field studies. In this connection, we are interested in the incidence of voting requirements in an attempt to discover just what groups in the population exercise the franchise. To do this properly, it would be important in at least some selected counties from several of the Southern states to compare the general registration and poll tax figures with the figures indicating Negro proportions in the population, the extent of land

tenure, the nature of the economic structure (including wage } levels, per capita income, etc.), and literacy data. Unfortunately, we have been unable to do this—first, because of inadequate time and assistance, and, secondly, because of the difficulty in getting the required secondary data for the counties in which field work was done. Much of such data available is for regions instead of counties. This is the sort of analysis which

remains to be made, however; and it should be made, for in this way we can show not merely which groups are really represented in the political process, and which are not, but also what possibilities there are for the excluded groups within the exist-

ing structure. Within the localities selected for study, an attempt should be made to show the composition of the governing caste and the basis for its control. In each instance it would be

necessary to make a thorough analysis of the local govern-

mental structure and of the tax structure. It would also be noted whether the locality or the state were responsible for schools, roads, relief, and the like. Since the sales tax is widely prevalent in the South, it too becomes an important factor in this equation.

The limited statistical analysis undertaken in this report is suggested by table 1 [from appendix 2 of the original memorandum], racial, educational, and voting percentages for selected counties from thirteen Southern states in the 1930s. In the presidential election of 1936, 9,259,765 votes were cast in the seventeen Southern states. There is no way of determining what the population of voting age in this area was at that time. But in 1930 the total population twenty-one years of age and over in these states was 22,175,151. In the elections of 1928 and 1932 an average of 8,080,587 votes were cast in the South. This means that what might be termed the effective 1. The eleven ex-Confederate states plus Delaware, Kentucky, Maryland, Missouri, Oklahoma, and West Virginia.

RESTRICTIONS ON VOTING IN THE SOUTH 65 TABLE 1. RACE, ILLITERACY, AND VOTING PERCENTAGES FOR SELECTED ALABAMA COUNTIES IN 1936

% of Negroes % of illiterate % of total

in total pop., intotalpop., pop., 21 21 and over, 10 and over, and over,

Counties 1930 1930 voting in 1936

I. Counties with more ) than 50% Negro pop., 21 and over, 1930

1. Lowndes 82.6 29.9 11.2 2. Greene 80.6 35.1 8.6 3. Macon 80.3 19.0 8.8 4. Sumter 76.3 25.5 10.4

5. Bullock 75.1 2.1.3 12.5 6. Wilcox 74.7 28.5 11.4 7. Marengo Hale 72.9 23.6 12.7 8. 71.2 23.6 12.6 9. Dallas 71.0 24.9 8.9 10. Perry 70.6 22.6 12.3 11. Russell 66.5 25.8 17.8

12. Barbour 54.0 24.6 15.7 13. Choctaw 54.0 18.1 15.7 14. Autauga 93.8 22.0 16.7 15. Monroe 50.8 16. Montgomery 50.114.8 13.918.5 21.7

17. Clarke 50.2 15.3 21.1

II. Counties with less than 10% Negro pop., 21 and over, 1930

1. Cherokee 8.111.5 10.0 25.5 26.6 2. Jackson 7.5 3. Cleburne Franklin 6.1 6.2 10.6 7.0 42.2 4. 29.1 5. Blount 4.1 7.1 35.2 6. Marion 3.8 6.7 30.7 7. Marshall 3.5 7.6 27.4 8. DeKalb 2.4 6.7 57.7 9. Cullman 10. Winston 1.1 1.0 5.4 6.3 29.5 39.7

vote, as distinct from the potential vote in the region, amounted to but 36.4 percent. In the United States as a whole, 52.6 percent of the population of voting age actually voted in these two elections. The effective vote of the South is far below that of the

country as a whole and considerably lower than that of any other region. There is a wide dispersion in the effective vote of the several Southern states. West Virginia ranks highest, with 76.9 percent, and South Carolina lowest, with 10.6 percent. It appears to be generally true that the border states rank highest and the Deep South or, to be more exact, the black-belt states,

rank lowest. Offhand, we could assume from the distribution

66 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

that there was an inverse relation between the Negro percentage of the total state population and the effective vote. Without the aid of statistical devices, however, we cannot establish the extent of this relationship. Neither can we determine the relative importance of such other factors as educational level and economic status, both of which may also influence the effective vote either directly or indirectly.” Our rough analysis, based on the use of simple, multiple, and

partial correlation techniques, discloses that, when race, educational level, and economic status are separately correlated with the effective vote, they all show a very high degree of inverse correlation. If, however, race is held constant, there is an appreciable decline in the value of the coefficients of relationship between educational level and the effective vote as well as between economic status and the effective vote. Although there . is a similar decline in the coefficients of correlation for race and the effective vote when education and economic status are each held constant, the decline is not as severe. This would indicate that of the three factors race appears to be the most significant

in determining the effective vote. Conclusive proof of this is given when two factors are held constant. We can therefore conclude that the percentage of the population of voting age in the South which actually votes is definitely conditioned by the per-

centage of the total population that is black; more so than by either the extent of illiteracy or the extent of low-skilled labor

among the gainful workers. | The field workers presented primarily impressionistic and

very little factual data for the counties covered. In a more intensive study, the selection of counties for sampling should be diversified, both in racial ratios and in relative industrial and agricultural emphasis. The very definite objective aimed at here is to relate very closely the black and white franchise problems, and to demonstrate that nonvoting in the South is a broad derivative of the political and economic structure of the region, rather than a mere product of racial disunity. 2. This paragraph and the one that follows are part of appendix 3 of the original Bunche memorandum, pp. 1612-61. The appendix is entitled “Race as a Factor in the Popular Vote of the South.” —Eb.

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FIVE

The Negro in Contemporary Politics

IT would be erroneous to assume that the Negro is completely disfranchised in the South. The pattern of race relations in that region is inconsistent and fickle, and this lack of uniformity is reflected in the attitudes of white Southerners toward Negro voting. It is true that the South is characterized by a general attitude of hostility toward Negro voting, but this is by no means exclusive or universal. There are sharp exceptions to the pattern in cities ike Memphis, Chattanooga, and San Antonio. There are broad exceptions throughout the South with respect to Negro participation in the general election, though this is largely an empty gesture in view of the fact that the white primary system renders the general elections in a one-party state of little consequence. There are significant exceptions on a thoroughly broad scale with regard to participation in bond and municipal elections generally, and not infrequently exceptions are found with respect to Negro participation in the Democratic primary itself. It is impossible to present any accurate or even nearly accu-

rate estimates of Negro voting in the South. Factual data on such voting is extremely difficult to obtain. Rough estimates can be obtained through compilation of reports from Negro newspapers and other publications, and from the few books on the subject. In my opinion, a very liberal estimate would suggest that in

the entire region there are not more than 550,000 registered Negro voters. Of this number, about 465,000 would be found in the eight so-called border states of Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia, Oklahoma, Missouri, Kentucky, West Virginia, and 69

70 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

Maryland; and by far the largest proportion of these black

voters would be concentrated in the five last-named states.

The nucleus of the solid South is to be found in the eight Deep South states where Negro disfranchisement is most complete and where the Democratic primary regulations are most severely exclusive—Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas. Yet even in these states the Negro retains some vestiges of political power. In the city bond issue elections (which are nonpartisan ) and in some of the state and county elections, his vote, though small, is not only permitted but sometimes actually sought. The records show many instances of such participation, but none has been quite

as outstandingly fruitful as that which took place in Atlanta, Georgia, twenty years ago. In 1920 the schools of Atlanta were in very bad condition. The mayor and others proposed a bond issue of $4,000,000 for the construction of new schools, but this issue was defeated by a narrow margin. Investigation revealed that most of the Negro voters had opposed it. There were from three to four thousand Negroes on the voting rolls at that time, and some of them would have to vote in the affirmative in

order to provide a constitutional majority. This matter was brought to the attention of the Interracial Commission, which was asked to find out why Negroes voted against the proposition. A conference was held with Negro leaders. Their position was that Negroes had no disposition to vote taxes which they must pay to buy white schools. Promises were then made that, when the issue was again submitted to the voters, Negroes would

receive a pro rata share for black schools. The Negroes agreed

to this. The issue was passed, and the black share was

$1,250,000 out of $3,800,000. As a result of this action, Atlanta Negroes obtained the new Booker T. Washington High School and four elementary schools. In Birmingham, Alabama, in recent years Negroes have be-

gun to vote in the Democratic primaries, and in Texas, especially San Antonio, Negroes exert a relatively important political influence. The Bexar County Educational League, a Negro organization chartered in September 1939, supported Maury Maverick in his recent campaign for mayor of San Antonio. The

Negro Progressive Voters League of Dallas, which was organized in 1936, claims to have corralled most of the city’s black voters. It selects political tickets to support during councilmanic

elections and stages campaigns for Negro registration. It was organized on a nonpartisan basis and insists that it is emphat-

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 71 ically opposed to the individual approach to the Negro problem. One of its first major activities was to support the campaign of

President Roosevelt for reelection in 1936. In 1937 it ran a “pay your poll tax” campaign. It now claims a membership of 7,000 registered voters out of a total registration of 39,000 in the city.! The Richmond Democratic League is fairly typical of Negro

political organizations in Southern communities. It claims to represent about a thousand Negroes and has been in existence over fifteen years. Its main activities are found in perennial campaigns that consist primarily of a few speeches and the singing of spirituals in meetings held at Negro churches. The object

of such meetings has been to get the Negro to pay the poll tax

and to vote. In recent years appeal has been made to Negro trade unionists in an effort to encourage their membership to vote. Recently the Richmond Democratic League held a “Swing Democratic Ball,” and three hundred young people paid thirtyfive cents each to do the jitterbug—and to hear a white alder-

man (a liberal city councilman) speak on the topic “Housing Needs for Negroes.” On 1 August, 1939 the League held a fourhour “Legislative Conference” at a Negro Methodist church to which about twenty of the white candidates for nomination in the August primaries came. They came to listen to Negro leaders outline the legislative demands which were being made of white candidates seeking the black vote. Among the Negro speakers were a teacher, a lawyer, a social worker, a barber, and a labor leader, and each of the candidates responded. The audience was also permitted to ask questions. This was considered a very significant development in Richmond, in that white candidates for public office were thus publicly seeking the Negro vote and were required to make promises in the bargain.? It is important to note the growing campaign to encourage Negroes to register and vote in such Southern cities as Miami, Savannah, Louisville, Birmingham, and Richmond. If the figures obtained for Negro registration in leading cities in Florida are approximately accurate, it would seem that there is much more extensive black registration in that state than is to be found in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, or South Carolina. It appears that both Negro registration and voting fig1. This description of Negro organizations in Texas comes from

Bunche, “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics and Achievements of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” pp. 623-25. —Ep. 2. See ibid., pp. 589-90. —Eb.

72, THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

ures have increased somewhat, though not greatly, in Florida since the repeal of the poll tax qualification for voting. Despite the hardships frequently imposed by the registrars, there are increasing numbers of Negroes in the South who are demonstrating an amazing amount of patience, perseverance, and determination in trying to register, and who keep returning after rejections until they get their names on the registration books. Negroes in the South have even discovered that white men with whom they have business relations are often inclined to be quite sympathetic toward their registration efforts. Thus white business agents are not infrequently called upon to act as character witnesses for Negro applicants. In one case in northern Alabama, a town mayor who was also a wholesale grocer quite willingly gave a note of recommendation to a Negro grocer with whom he did business, which enabled this man to get by the local registrars without difficulty. There is a strong difference of opinion among Negroes in the

South as to the proper method to be employed in gaining increased registration for the race. Some prominent Negroes are

, content to go along with the customary method of getting a few blacks on the books through personal contacts with friendly and sympathetic whites. Others vigorously oppose this tactic as an uncertain “back door” practice which holds no promise for the Negro’s political future in the region. These latter desire to

: make an issue, at every possible opportunity, of the Negro’s denial, and they demand that Negroes be accorded the same treatment in the registration office as that given to whites. The efforts being made by Negro organizations throughout the South to give free coaching to Negroes in order to aid them in answering the questions put by the registrars is good civic education.

| Undoubtedly many of the Negro applicants have a better knowledge of the functioning of the state and federal governments than the registrars who put the questions to them and, for that matter, than most white citizens in their locality. Labor unions in the South are in a position to play an important role in opening the registration books to Negro workers. An example of what may be done in this way is demonstrated in the activity of the United Mine Workers of America local in Walker County, Alabama. The deep-rooted prejudices of the Southern worker cannot be quickly overcome, but as labor unions develop in the South, there is a growing working-class con-

a sciousness and a tendency to identify black and white working class interests. Southern labor unions have begun to awaken

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 13 to the fact that the white worker himself has been virtually disfranchised in the South. Any significant progress made toward better working and living conditions and toward progressive so-

cial legislation in the Southern states can result only from a politically conscious labor movement that will make its political influence felt and eventually wrest political power from the hands of the Bourbon oligarchy that has long controlled Southern destinies. In this movement a newly enfranchised black vote, if carefully trained and guided, can play a vital role, and there are increasing numbers of white labor leaders in the South who realize it.

Where the Negro votes in any significant numbers in Southern cities, the ugly head of machine control is reared. Thus the story of the black vote in places like Raleigh, Memphis, and San Antonio is not one of how the Negro votes, but of how and by whom he is voted. Negroes vote in Memphis. The machine of Edward H. Crump sees to that. It provides them with poll tax receipts, marked ballots, and bad liquor, and it herds them into the polling booths. It has even been suggested that Mr. Crump draws upon the handy Negro population just across the river in Arkansas. The use of the black vote by the Crump machine has had repercussions on Negro political status elsewhere in Tennessee.

In their effort to overcome the dominating influence of Crump’s power over state politics, white Democratic leaders in Nashville

and Chattanooga have relaxed the white primary rules, and Negroes are beginning to participate in the Democratic primaries in those places. The eastern half of the state is traditionally Republican, and has always been accustomed to the Negro vote. As a result of these factors, the Negro in Tennessee is making

more progress toward exercise of the franchise than in any other Southern state except Kentucky, where a Negro sits in the state legislature. But the percentage of Negroes in the popula-

tion of Kentucky is below the percentage for the nation as a whole, and thus it is not typical of the South. The Negro in central Texas is making his influence felt in local political affairs, but in this part of Texas the black population is relatively small, consisting largely of a class of artisans sandwiched between the poor whites above and the Mexicans below. In San Antonio, for instance, a larger percentage of Negroes than whites vote, though they do not always vote intelligently and seldom progressively. For more than twenty years —until just a few years ago—one of the most powerful political personalities in San Antonio, where the Negro population is 15

VA THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

percent of the total, was Charles Bellinger, a Negro sportsmangambler-racket boss. Under Bellinger’s rule, the Negro vote was largely controlled through poll tax payment and machine domi-

nation. It was the hangover from this influence that kept the Negro population from voting solidly for the progressive Maury Maverick in his candidacy for mayor of the city, despite the fact that Maverick had been known as the only liberal congressman

from Texas and one who had vigorously defended the antilynching bill in Congress.

The picture is different in southeastern Texas, however, where the Negro population is much larger and where Negroes are almost entirely excluded from politics. In this area—and this is the section of Texas that sent Martin Dies to Congress— are found all of the special devices and tricks employed to disfranchise the Negro. It is to be noted with regret that practically nothing is being done in behalf of, and little interest is taken in, the political disabilities of the great numbers of Negroes found in the small towns and rural areas of the South. In some places in the South the Negro vote does constitute a

balance of power in local elections, even though this vote is small. I think that a very revealing and important study could be

made on the participation of Negroes in Southern municipal elections. This has been a fairly widespread phenomenon in the

region and is usually the first opportunity given to Negroes to exercise the franchise. Ordinarily in these local elections, the white factions are fairly evenly divided along the line of those who want some improvement to be made by the money raised through bond issues and those who do not want to be burdened

with the taxes needed to pay off bonds. In a situation of this kind, a small bloc of votes can control the result, especially where a specified percentage of the voters must vote on the bond issue in order to make the election legal. Thus it has often happened that the Negro vote has been enrolled in the struggle.

There is considerable evidence to prove that, even in some of the deepest parts of the South, local candidates are attentive to the black vote and even campaign among Negroes. White candidates sometimes bid openly for the Negro vote and employ Negro taxis to carry black supporters to the polls. Political rallies are sometimes held in Negro sections, and white politicians

make campaign speeches and promises to the black voters. In certain instances as many as several thousand Negroes have voted in the city elections of Atlanta. Negroes in the thousands have similarly voted in municipal contests in Richmond, Dur-

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 79 ham, and Raleigh. Apparently the white populations of these communities were not unduly alarmed by this new activity on the part of Negroes, for there is no record of any serious protest made against it. On the other side of the ledger, however, was the attempt of the Ku Klux Klan to alarm and stir up the white population of Miami against the threat of black voting; a similar episode took place in Greenville, South Carolina, in 1939, when only a few hundred Negroes got on the registration rolls. There was some excitement last year surrounding the registration of about three score Negroes, mostly women, in Spartanburg, South Carolina, when a warning was issued that “the Klan will ride again.” In cities like Richmond, Durham, and Raleigh, the new Negro

political interest in municipal elections is inspired and controlled by the city machines which have found a use for the black vote along the Memphis pattern. In Miami and Greenville, however, as in an increasingly large number of towns in the South, Negroes have organized their own movements to gain the franchise for their group, and are not yet subject to machine domination. In some of these instances, the Negro community has shown an adeptness for political bargaining and has got benefits for the Negro community as a result of its

political activity.

Such instances do serve to counter the assertion that the Negro in the South has no interest in things political, though

certainly there are enough forces at work in the region to justify

him in an attitude of abject resignation toward his political status. It is quite significant, I think, that, given the smallest opening for a vote that counts, the Negro voter will appear in considerable numbers, often to the consternation of a white population caught napping. It may be important to the future

political status of the Negro that, in a number of places throughout the South, the white population has been able to view without panic the spectacle of a black vote exercising a controlling power over election results. In several cases white candidates for important offices have desperately bid for the Negro vote. The “better elements” of the white population have sometimes turned to the Negro vote as a means of pushing de-

sired reforms. In other words, when the Negro vote is needed badly enough, it is unleashed. Once the chains are loosened from the black voter in such cases, however, it has been found extremely difficult to chain him up again. The inexorable law of American politics is to get the vote, and once vote-hungry

16 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

candidates taste a helpful vote, even if black, it is relished. While this sort of thing has not happened widely and frequently enough in the South to have become at all typical, it has cut a

pattern, and there is good reason to assume that unless some very radical changes occur in the nation’s political and economic structures as a result of the European conflagration, the pattern will become increasingly familiar to the political process of the American South.

, One very large and very significant group of Negroes in the South has been having, in recent years, an unparalleled and unrestricted opportunity to express its will through the ballot. Not since Reconstruction days has any numerous group of Negroes had the opportunity to cast the independent ballot that is cast by

the Negro cotton farmer in the cotton marketing quota referenda. Most significantly, many thousands of Negro cotton farmers each year now go to the polls, stand in line with their white neighbors, and mark their ballots independently, without protest or intimidation, in order to determine government policy toward cotton production control. These elections revolve about issues which affect directly the economic welfare of the producers, and these issues are much clearer to the voters than are the often obscure issues confronting them in the regular political elections. These cotton referenda are run off as regular elections, with regulations governing the eligibility of voters, voting booths, and the Australian ballot—features that are often lacking in the political elections of the Southern states in which the cotton referenda are held. According to officials in the Agricultural Adjustment Administration, the role played by the Negro farmer in the marketing quota referenda in the Southern states has been very creditable, and in these referenda the black farmer has played a very active and decisive part. For example, in the November 1938 cotton marketing quota referendum, the Southern counties having the largest number of Negro cotton producers were the counties having the largest number of votes in favor of the cotton control program. It can scarcely be doubted that the participation of Negroes in these elections and on an equal basis with whites is of the utmost social significance in the South. That such activities will tend to bring about a recognition by both white and Negro producers of parallel economic interests would seem clear. Participation in these referenda has given a great many Negroes in the region the first opportunity that they have ever had to cast a

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 7 ballot of any kind. Moreover, it tends to accustom a great many whites to the practice of Negro voting. In these marketing quota

elections, no attempt has been made to set up separate ballot booths for whites and Negroes, and all of the booths are mixed. There are three judges at every booth, and no serious racial incidents have been reported in the conduct of any of the elections. For strategic reasons, the director of the Southern division of the AAA has played down the fact of Negro participation in these elections in order to avoid the creation of a political is-

sue. His interest has been in the success of the program, and this demands the most widespread possible participation of all groups. Thus, he has tried to avoid any publicity which would bring about political attacks upon this aspect of the program. He readily admits that the success of the program depends largely upon Negro participation. The Negro has long been an issue in American election campaigns, both negatively and positively. In the South anti-Negro attitudes have been an important means of capturing elections.

In the North, in those centers where the black population is concentrated, parties and candidates have often overexerted themselves in their efforts to demonstrate interest on behalf of and fairness toward the Negro. A rather peculiar racial twist is

found in the political problems of the nation’s capital. In the District of Columbia, whose population has no suffrage, the

Negro issue looms large. For many years efforts have been | made to win some form of suffrage for the district. These efforts

have often been halfhearted, however, and never unanimous, because of the fear that the large Negro population in the district

would wield a balance of power and dominate the elections. There are groups in the white population of Washington which are vigorously opposed to suffrage for this area and raise the bogey of a “black mayor” for the capital.

There is some evidence to indicate that the Southern politician who has national political aspirations, even though from the Deep South, is not averse to flirting with the Negro vote in the North. It was reliably reported at the 1939 NAACP annual convention in Richmond, Virginia, that Vice President Garner, who at that time had his eye upon the Democratic presidential nomination, invited a delegation of Texas Negroes, led by the editor of a Negro newspaper in Houston, to attend the Richmond convention and to exert an effort to bring the 1940 NAACP convention to Houston. It was said that enough money was provided to carry the members of this delegation on up to Washington and

78 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

then to New York to visit the World’s Fair. While in the nation’s

capital, the delegation is said to have met with the Vice President, and that it was authorized to make an announcement that $1,000 would be available for the purpose of entertaining the NAACP convention in Houston. The purpose of all this was to swing Negro influence to Garner, and the plan was that if the NAACP came to Houston, the Vice President would call the

Texas state Democratic committee together and have it vote to let Negroes participate in the Democratic primary of Texas. I can personally verify that the Houston delegation was present at the Richmond meeting in large and vociferous numbers, and it did make a vigorous bid for the 1940 convention. But it seems that at the last moment Walter White got wind of the plot and immediately set to work to circumvent the effort. Almost at the last minute a spontaneous invitation was extended by an unor-

ganized group of Philadelphians to hold the 1940 meeting in that city, and the Garner plans were defeated. The Democratic white primary in the South operates upon a gentleman’s agreement whereby the candidates are to abide by the decision rendered in the primary. But there have been instances where candidates, for one reason or another, have refused to keep the agreement and have opposed the successful primary candidates in the general elections. In some of these cases, as in Savannah, the defeated primary candidate has appealed to the Negro voters. This is an essential weakness of the white primary, and there is a growing conviction in the South that whenever and wherever the Negro is registered in any significant numbers, the whole primary system will collapse from its own inherent weaknesses, since narrowly defeated primary

candidates will be attracted by the possibility of stealing the election with the aid of the Negro vote in the general election.

Indeed, there are an increasing number of people in the South—among them some very influential people and some

keen observers—who believe it inevitable that within the reasonably near future a two-party system will develop in the region. They see a second or opposition party developing in response to the movement of population, the growth of industry, the increasing class consciousness of the workers of the South, and the tendency of the established parties to break up on ideological grounds. They realize, of course, that the development of a two-party system in the region will have a very significant effect upon the political status of the Negro. This is quite obvi-

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 79 ously so. It provides the main source of hope for the political future of the Negro in the South. The attitude of the Southern political machine leaders toward Negro voting is also important to diagnose. As professional polliticians, perhaps most of these men would have no compunction about calling upon Negroes to vote if they needed the black vote;

but so long as the present political structure exists in most of these states, there is no need for it, since the white franchise is sufficiently limited to enable them to control it and to smother too serious factionalism. Not all machine leaders are as frank as the few who have indicated that Negro voting would increase too greatly the expense involved in machine control, since it is already necessary for them to pay up the poll taxes and buy the votes of many white voters. Sometimes white candidates in the South seek the Negro vote, but explain to black political leaders that they cannot afford to have an “open endorsement” of their candidacy by Negroes. Where the Negro does vote in any significant numbers, white politicians often employ the effective strategy of creating several Negro political leaders whose intragroup rivalry splits the black vote into factions and thereby renders it relatively impotent. Where a Negro candidate runs for office with a fair chance of success, for example, it is a well established custom for white

politicians to employ other Negroes to enter the race against him, thus splitting the black vote and making it possible for a white candidate to steal the race, even in an overwhelmingly Negro district. Southern officials are often given to explanations of Negroes on the voting rolls of their communities by saying, more or less apologetically and sometimes even with a little pride, that this is due to “the fine type of colored citizens we have here.” There are some in the South who feel that the Negro—at least the “cream” of the race, those who are best educated and best quali-

fied—-should be given some form of separate representation. Some Southerners, such as editor William Watts Ball of the Charleston News and Courier, advocate a black party and 2 black primary, in which Negroes would select their own representatives. It is sometimes advocated that Negroes be permitted to elect Negro representatives who would sit in the state and national legislatures in the capacity of advisory delegates with power to speak but not to vote, and with the responsibility of doing everything possible properly to represent Negro inter-

80 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

ests. The Union of South Africa has recently adopted a scheme of this kind as a form of nominal representation for natives in the Cape Province. It is, of course, purely a sop. Some Southern officials declare that there are only two types of Negroes in the South who really want to register: one, those Negroes from “way back yonder” who registered and became accustomed to voting in the days before the disfranchising consti-

tutions; and two, those Negroes holding jobs under the New Deal, who have been “required” to register or who feel that they

are required to register. Numbers of righteous Southerners resent this intrusion of the New Deal, which they feel has tended

to give the Negro false notions about his citizenship in the South. There are others who take the attitude that there is no particular objection to black voting so long as it is made certain that no Negroes will ever run for office. Other officials readily admit that Negroes might vote a good deal more than they do, since many of the devices employed to keep them from the polls

would not hold up in the courts if the blacks were wise and courageous enough to use “smart lawyers” to challenge the practices in the courtroom.

There is undoubtedly a great deal of bewilderment in the minds of many Southern whites about the new tendency of Negroes to want to vote Democratic. Traditionally in the South it has been assumed that every Negro, if given the ballot, would vote Republican. Franklin D. Roosevelt and his New Deal have

changed all of this, and many Southerners are torn between party pride in the fact that Negroes want to vote Democratic and traditional opposition to black voting. To many white Southerners, the New Deal, in its attitude toward Negroes, its “coddling”

of them, is twentieth-century Reconstruction. Officials sometimes point, with a sort of embarrassed pride, to the fact that the handful of Negroes who vote in their particular county vote Democratic. Since there is no secret ballot in many parts of the South, the officials know pretty well how everyone in the county votes, white as well as black. It is not without significance that in some places in the Deep

South today it is possible for broad-minded white citizens of the community to take a stand in support of Negro voting without being eternally damned and ostracized by their white neighbors. In some instances, responsible whites have assumed leadership in getting Negroes to the polls, and have used the black vote, small as it is, as a bargaining lever with which to pry concessions from white candidates in the way of improved Negro

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 81 treatment. There is often an element of the missionary spirit in such activity, however, and the white leaders usually take it for

: granted that all such efforts in behalf of Negroes must have white sponsors. If the South is changing in its attitude toward Negro voting, then the region is now in what may be called a transition stage in its thinking on the subject. It is changing from a previous attitude of absolute hostility toward black voting to a new tolerance toward a vote by that part of the Negro population that may be considered “safe.” The development of the lily-white Republican movement in the South and its effect upon Negro political status, both in the South and the North, have been considered in this memorandum. The Republican organizations in the South exist for the most part to provide delegates for the Republican presidential convention every four years. They are in no sense an opposition party except in scattered areas and in the border states. Their

importance to the whites and blacks that make them up revolves around the patronage which is given in the form of postmasterships and other minor posts, and trips to the conventions. An example is provided by Perry Howard, member of the GOP national committee from Mississippi. Because of his shrewdness, his humility in the presence of whites, and his tractability among whites, he is fully accepted as a Negro leader by leading white Republicans. His rise to prominence was along the easy road of Republican party politics in Mississippi, where there are only a handful of Republicans and all of those are seeking Re-

publican patronage. The test of fitness in that game is one’s ability to play shrewd politics, and at that Howard is an expert. Once on top, he has remained there by playing his political cards well, “staying in” with the white folks, as he well knows how to do— it is often said of him that he is a better “lily-white” than a white Republican of Mississippi would be—and by a robust, allout, Lincoln-freed-the-slaves, the-Democrats-be-damned brand of Republican soap-boxing.? There is deep resentment among Southern Negroes at what they consider to have been the sellout of the Negro by the Republican party in order to advance its courtship with the South-

ern whites. Certainly a great many black voters in the South who support the Republican party do so only because there is no 3. This characterization of Howard is taken from Ralph J. Bunche, “A Brief and Tentative Analysis of Negro Leadership” (1940), p. 27, another of the unpublished memoranda prepared for Myrdal’s An American Dilemma. —ED.

82 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

other party to give their support to, since the Democrats refuse to admit them to party membership. There are many older Negroes who are Republican because it is a well-established tradition for Negroes to vote so if they vote at all. As some frankly explain it, the Negro has more to gain in the South from supporting the Democrats—and in many places the Democrats are really more generous to Negroes than are Republicans, especially since Roosevelt II—but they vote Republican, nevertheless, because for historical reasons “no Negro can be a Democrat in the South and keep his self-respect.” In not a few cases this self-respect is of less importance in the equation than the crumbs from the patronage pie. The lily-white Republican organizations do not generally exclude Negroes entirely. There is no such thing as a pure white Republican primary in the South. In some states, as in Louisiana, the Negro Republican registrants are needed in order to give the party sufficient representation in the state to continue the party’s legal recognition and keep its place on the ballot. The

new “rotten borough” rule adopted at the recent Republican convention in Philadelphia will also encourage even the lilywhites to make some effort to court the Negro Republicans, since many congressional districts in the South will not be able to rustle up 1,000 white Republicans in order to be entitled to a

delegate to the conventions. The Negro Republicans will be needed for padding. The white Republican of the South is of quite the same breed as the white Democrat—though sometimes a mite less honest. By and large he has been and is as much opposed to Negro voting as the heartiest “cracker,” but he has had more use for the black voter than has the Democrat. The Negro has been needed as window dressing for the Southern delegations to the national

conventions and therefore is good patronage insurance for white Republicans. No Southern counties are any more inhospitable to the Negro than some of the traditionally Republican ones, as in northern Alabama and Georgia, for example. The development of lily-white Republicanism in the South has been of no significance to the welfare of the Negro masses in the region. The fact that Georgia had two Negro Republican national committeemen meant nothing to that state’s Negroes, except to that pitiful handful that groveled and slobbered at the patronage trough. The same applies to Mississippi. If lily-white Republicanism can lead to the development of real white factionalism in the South and an ultimate two-party system, the

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 83 Negro should encourage it. For in the long run the Negro masses

of the South have far more to gain from the breakup of the solid, one-party South than from the hollow pretense of Negro Republicanism in a solidly Democratic white South. The Southern Negro is well rid of the patronage-bloated black lackeys of the black-and-tan days. The sharp swing in Negro political allegiance from Republi-

can to Democratic since 1932 is a noteworthy phenomenon throughout the country. Even in the South, where the Negro has more reason than elsewhere to reject the Democratic party, there has been a noticeable trend toward Roosevelt and the Democrats. It is to be seriously doubted, however, that this is a fundamental shift to democracy. Roosevelt beckoned the Negro, and he came, despite his traditional suspicion of the Democratic party and its Southern controls. The essential reasons for the Negro’s political change of heart in the South are

these: (1) the practical effectiveness of a vote cast in the Democratic primary as against a Republican vote cast in the general election, since the Republicans scarcely ever hold pri‘maries in the South; (2) the development of lily-whiteism in the Republican party organization of the South; and (3) the liberalism and “forgotten man” appeal of President Roosevelt. It is unfortunate that we do not have a clearer picture of Negro political status and activity in the border states, especially in Kentucky, West Virginia, Missouri, and Maryland. Except for a superficial treatment of the problem in Louisville, St. Louis, and Kansas City, Missouri, we have very little on any of these states, in all of which Negroes play a significant political role.

One of the most interesting problems in connection with Negro political status in the South involves the effort to test the alleged indifference and political apathy of Southern Negroes. Especially in the South is the impression given that the Negro

has no political interests and no political ambitions. Any appraisal of the Negro’s political interests would obviously need to

be made in terms of the total milieu in which the Negro lives, including the constant pressure and repression to which he is subjected. The data at our disposal do not support any broad conclusions, but there is considerable evidence of Negro political interest in the South, and also of the ability of Negro organizations to arouse political consciousness among large numbers of

blacks when it becomes possible to vote. The fact that, in the midst of the hostile attitude universally manifested toward

84 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

black voting in the South, large numbers of Negroes do run the gauntlet of the registration officials and the election officers in order to cast what is quite frequently a worthless ballot would seem to indicate that the Southern Negro is not altogether listless in the face of the deprival of his fundamental rights of citi-

zenship. On the other hand, there is a great deal of political apathy among Negroes, even as among whites, where voting is possible. Certainly the factors of Negro resignation and futility and the frequently expressed attitude that “politics is the white

man’s business” are important elements in the matter. It is rather common for leaders of Negro organizations in the South

to charge that the Negro could vote to a greater extent if he would try harder and take more interest in doing so. Yet such attitudes will often be difficult to reconcile with the expressed de-

termination of local registrars to keep Negroes off the voting rolls.

There are some Negro political leaders in the South who feel

that if Negroes would only register in large numbers, even granting that the privilege of voting in the general election is a

completely hollow one, the great number of available black votes would be bait for white candidates that they could not for long resist, and that in time this would result in white candidates bidding for the Negro vote. In this way they envisage the possi-_ . bility of the Negro crashing into the white primary. Negroes in

the South who turn to the courts to correct injustices done to them by registrars have frequently found the registrars quite alert. In both New Orleans and Birmingham registrars have forestalled possible adverse court decisions by registering Negro

complainants before the courts heard their cases, thus rendering the cases moot. There are not a few Negroes in the South who agree that the election officials are right in permitting only a few Negroes with property to vote. They take this stand on the ground that the relations with the “white folks” will be better if only the “highest

type of Negro” votes. The idea is that the Negro must always avoid rubbing the white man the wrong way, and that at every possible opportunity he must put his best foot forward to the white man and impress upon him how well the “better class” Negro can conduct himself. Others, in resignation, take the accommodation attitude that the white people simply do not want Negroes to vote and that, therefore, blacks should not attempt to stir up any trouble about the matter. There is a great deal of class feeling among Negroes in the

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 85 South, and it is not unusual for “upper class” Negroes—business

and professional men—to take the attitude that the great mass of blacks, being uneducated and illiterate, are not yet ready to exercise the franchise. Not a few reflect the view that this black mass of uneducated people is a definite liability to the advanced members of the race, in that all Negroes are lumped together in the prevailing racial situation. Were it not for this crude black mass, they reason, the upper-class Negroes would be extended the privileges of citizenship by the whites without hesitation. A good many of these upper-class Negroes, far from expressing concern over the disfranchisement of their less fortunate black brothers, are proud of the fact that they are found among the chosen few in the community who are permitted to have the privilege of voting. Many Negroes in the Southern states, especially the younger ones, charge Negro preachers with a good deal of the responsi-

bility for the lack of Negro political activity. The Negro preacher, it is declared, either counsels his flock to stay out of politics altogether or else takes a totally indifferent attitude toward the problem. There are individual exceptions, of course, and some black ministers have played active and influential parts in Negro voting campaigns.

There are really very few, if any, Negro political bosses in the United States in the sense of an ability actually to deliver a significant Negro vote. Certainly there are no effective ones in the South. Most of the so-called Negro political leaders maintain _ their influence through personal contacts with prominent white politicians rather than on the basis of any mass following or an ability to command any significant vote within the Negro electorate. There is no Negro political figure in the country who can say that he actually has a following, though there are many who

can buy up votes with the money of white candidates or

machines. The game of politics breeds some degenerate types of local leaders of both races. There are innumerable Negro hirelings of the political bosses, black and white, who will attempt almost anything for a handout. There are many stool pigeons, some

professional and some voluntary and amateurish. There are Negro leaders who, either to curry favor with whites or to blast away at arival leader, freely betray each other and their group. There are all sorts of racketeers who exert one or another kind

of influence, and who are, when “in the money,” sometimes quite liberal in their support of and donations to worthy Negro

86 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

causes. Generally the local Negro leadership is so poor that, as one Negro citizen says: “What can be done about it? We got to have leadership. Somebody has got to come forward who knows the score and has the talent of persuasion and expose the bastards for what they are .. . lousy sewer rats, bloated with the blood of their own people. Before we can get to the real white ruling class enemy, we've got to first hack our way through a swarm of their black hirelings in our own group.” No case can be made for the Negro vote as a great progressive bloc in any locality. Like the white vote, the Negro vote tends to be conservative, not very intelligent on issues, and rather easily bought. The charge is frequently made that the Negro vote is easily purchasable. We have no evidence to establish the fact

that the black vote can be more readily purchased than any other vote. That many Negro voters are willing to sell their ballot for a price is indisputable. Many white voters are also willing to

trade upon their voting privilege. It should be remarked, however, that in many places in the South, though only a handful of Negroes vote, this vote is the most independent in the community because white candidates do not bother to try to buy it. Any analysis of Negro voting in the South ought to pay special

attention to the age of black voters. The majority of the Negro voters in many Southern communities will be found to be those whose names, by hook or crook, remained on the registration lists from the pre—constitutional disfranchisement days. This

category of Negro voters is rapidly dying out and has largely historical significance. It is much more important to know how many members of the younger Negro generations, who have come up under the new constitutions, are able to get their names on the rolls and to cast their ballots. We have no detailed data on this subject. It has been possible to make only a very limited analysis of the extent to which the Negro expresses class and race consciousness in voting. Speaking generally, it appears that there is very little expression of class consciousness in Negro voting, whether North or South, for the simple reason that Negroes by and large have very little of such consciousness. Moreover, the Negro political leaders are usually much more machine and race conscious than they are class conscious. Race permeates Negro 4. This paragraph comes from Bunche, “A Brief and Tentative Analysis of Negro Leadership,” pp. 89, 123. —ED.

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 87 life in this country in its entirety, and it is unquestionably a primary influence in Negro political motivation. Attention also has been directed to the Negro attitude toward

the overtures of the radical. parties. These parties, and especially the Communists, have made serious efforts to win the Negro and have juggled their party lines in such way as to attract his support. Some Negro leaders, including William E. B. Du Bois, in the past have advised the Negro that it would be bet-

ter for him to give support to the radical parties, even it if meant throwing his vote away, than to give it to either of the major parties which show so little inclination to do anything in behalf of Negro welfare. On the whole, however, the parties of the Left have been able to cut no appreciable swath through the black electorate. Their appeal to the Negro has not been great, despite the strenuous efforts exerted, especially by the Commu-

nist party. Whatever reception the radical parties have met among Negroes has been among the younger, urbanized intellectual leaders. There are certain compensatory activities in which the Negro has engaged in lieu of normal political activity. Throughout the South there is a tendency to elect “bronze mayors,”® and to work

up regular campaigns with posters and meetings in connection with their election. This is also tied up with efforts to stimulate Negro business. Moreover, all of the Negro organizations are usually ridden with politics and leadership rivalries. There is plenty of evidence that the Negro is a very political animal, and that his political urges will find expression in other channels

~ whenever he is deprived of participation in the usual political processes.

There is a strong inclination on the part of many Negroes to regard the ballot as a prime source of black deliverance, and with many Negroes the right to cast the ballot is a symbol of equality of status. It is assumed, rather naively, due to a blind faith in the ideals of American democracy, that once the Negro gets the ballot, he can solve his problems with it—this despite the fact that the great masses of whites throughout the country, who have long been enfranchised, have been able to make but little progress toward solution of many of their own problems 5. “Bronze mayors” were Negro leaders chosen in mock elections to symbolize black needs and aspirations. The practice of electing “bronze mayors” reflected the political stirrings of many black communities in the urban setting of the 1930s. —Eb.

88 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

with the ballot. The vote has become a fetish with many Negroes, but there is little evidence that social problems anywhere in the world are solved by fetishism. The enfranchisement of the Negro in the South would be a great advance for black people, but it would still leave the major

economic and political problems of the region unsolved, and these affect the Negro quite as much as the white citizens. The true significance of the ballot for the Negro in the South would be in the fact that this in itself would be a recognition of a new era in his progressive development toward full integration in American society. It would give him a new sense of responsibility and civic dignity, and, with proper guidance and leadership, it might well be that this Negro vote could be lined up in support of that small band of perspiring Southern liberals who are doggedly working for broad social reform. Although the general pattern is for the Negro sections in our municipalities to be treated quite shabbily with respect to municipal services, it does seem evident that the black vote can be and is traded for improved facilities and services wherever the Negro votes in any significant numbers. In those areas in which

the Negro is able to wield the stick of political power, his requests are much more attentively listened to and complied with. It is possible to illustrate graphically enough the significance of the Negro vote in national, state, and local elections. For example, in national politics, the antilynching bill has become a political football solely. because of the importance which Northern candidates attribute to the black vote. In the present presidential campaign, it appears that the Negro vote will assume larger sig-

nificance than ever because of the great importance now attached to the independent vote, which is expected to swing the | election. The Republicans, who have now awakened to the realization that they can no longer depend upon the traditional allegiance of the black voters, have taken unusual steps to attract the Negro electorate. They have already employed a Negro pub-

licity agent and have had a special study on the needs of the Negro made in connection with the work of the Glenn Frank Committee.* The Democrats are likewise beginning to employ measures to hold the newly won Negro support, and in this effort Mrs. Roosevelt is one of their strongest assets. Former Postmaster General James A. Farley got in a good plug for his party 6. Ralph J. Bunche, “Report on the Needs of the Negro” (1939). A copy of this 133-page unpublished study is located in the Schomburg Collection of the New York Public Library. —-ED.

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 89 in his unusually flattering speech at Tuskegee last spring in connection with the issuance of a commemorative stamp in honor of Booker T. Washington—the first time a Negro has been so honored. There is every indication that there will be much rivalry between the two parties and a lot of money spent in order to gain the Negro vote. Negro political activity in the North ties up importantly with

the Negro migrations during and after the World War, for it was these migrations that brought on the concentration of , Negro population in the Northern urban centers. The outstanding characteristic of these new Negro populations, which found themselves in a strange environment in the North, was their political unawareness and innocence. Inevitably, they fell prey to the machine politics of the well-oiled political rings typical of America’s urban centers. Each of the important Northern metropolitan areas with large concentrations of Negroes provides material for a graphic story of Negro voting experience. Only in Chicago has the history of Negro political life in the North been carefully traced; the story remains to be told for such centers as New York, Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Buffalo, Kansas City, Baltimore, and St. Louis, not to mention the very

significant political role played by the black vote in smaller cities.

We are not so ambitious as to attempt to write these histories , in this memorandum. The necessary data are not available to us, nor has there been time in which to do the job. We have tried

merely a running account based, for the most part, on unpublished manuscripts and hastily prepared general memoranda compiled for us by selected individuals in the localities covered.

It must be emphasized that any analysis of the Negro role in the machine politics of Northern cities should be related, as far as possible, to the experiences of other minority groups, especially the immigrant groups, and to that of the native white population. There is a great need for a series of analyses of Negro political activity in selected Northern areas based upon a fair grasp of the nature of machine politics in those areas, the relationship between machine politics and the Negro vote, and the part played by Negro political lieutenants and ward heelers operating in behalf of the machine. It is only for Chicago, in Harold F. Gosnell’s Negro Politicians: The Rise of Negro Politics

in Chicago (1935), that this has been attempted. Unfortunately, it has been impossible for us to do very much concerning an essential corollary of the Negro in machine poli-

90 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

tics—the frequent tie-up between Negro politics and politicians and the underworld. We know generally that this is a relationship quite widely found, but we lack the specific data to do very much toward pointing up and illustrating the subject. For the

most part, this underworld association reduces itself to the numbers and policy rackets and their numerous barons, to prostitution, and to petty vice. That there are broad patterns which might be derived from a close study of such activities | have no doubt, but in this study we lack enough factual data to describe them. There is some slight suggestion of the situation prevailing in Detroit, but my hopes for a considerable amount of such material on Chicago were not fulfilled. We are lacking, also, in the close data necessary for an accurate consideration of the subject of gerrymandering in Northern cities as it affects Negroes. That this political device has been

widely employed to the political detriment of black voters is generally accepted. Adequate documentation of the phenomenon for any particular locality, however, could only be provided

on the basis of a close scrutiny of ward and district lines in Negro areas, Negro population figures for voting districts, and analyses of election returns by race. Such data for a number of cities, at least, would have been provided had it not been found necessary, for lack of funds, to give up the projected statistical

analyses. ,

It is impossible to say, categorically, just how much political democracy actually means to the Negro unless it is also accompanied with full economic opportunity. That the Negro in a city like Chicago has received some considerable benefits from his

political activity would seem to be incontrovertible. On the other hand, the fact that his economic opportunity has been fenced in by racial discrimination tends often to make opportunities for political participation something of a mockery insofar as the welfare of the entire group is involved. It is a striking fact in the history of American Negroes that, following emancipation, so little attention was devoted, either by government or by Negro leadership, to the economic welfare of this population. The Negro leaders were completely absorbed in the new political freedom. In their economic thinking, they were essentially __- petty bourgeois and thought that political emancipation had assured the group’s wholesome economic future. The analysis of Negro political status in St. Louis, Cleveland, and New York has been based almost entirely upon the research memoranda which we had prepared by reliable Negro citizens

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 91 in these three centers. There has been no opportunity to expand

the analysis beyond the limits thus determined, nor to make any careful check on the materials thus made available. Data for the Detroit and Philadelphia analyses came from field notes

and unpublished manuscripts. The analyses here presented make no pretense to being intensive or thorough. This was quite

impossible unless field work in selected Northern areas could have been undertaken: It was necessary, because of limitations of time and money, to make the choice between field work in the

South and field work in selected Northern areas. When it became apparent to me that we could not afford to do both jobs, I selected the South without a moment’s hesitation. The reasons for this decision were simple: the vast majority of Negroes still live in the Southern region, and nonvoting is a much more serious problem than voting. The Negro in the North votes. The story of how he votes; how he is voted; what his political attitudes are and how they are determined; the shifts in his political allegiance; the gains from political activity; the nature of his political leadership; and his influence upon the Northern and national political scene is an important and interesting one. I wish we could relate it in detail here. But the fact is that the Negro voter in the North is much more

thoroughly assimilated politically than he is economically or socially. The Chicago picture is quite typical, and Professor Gosnell has portrayed that well. The Negro voter, like the white, is preyed upon by the political machines. The Negro voter, through his political leaders, who are professional politicians and therefore self-seeking, expects a return for his vote in the form of improved municipal services. Where, as in Chicago, New York, Cleveland, Philadelphia, St. Louis, and Detroit, his vote is an important factor in determining election results, he does get improved facilities and services, though seldom in proportion to the real importance of his vote. Yet his vote is a voice

that can command attention, and it gives the Negro of the North an effective lever that is almost entirely foreign to his

black brother in the South. Allin all, the Negro voter in Northern communities takes over the established white patterns of political conduct and attitude. The Negro vote, no longer inseparably tied to the Republican

party, is less a bloc vote than formerly, and must be carefully wooed by the political organizations. It is unfortunate that some real work could not have been done in this study on the extent and nature of the shifts in Negro voting in the North since 1928.

92, THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

I would very much like to see some careful checking done on the thesis, as indicated in Chicago, that upper-class Negroes did not shift from Republican to Democratic, and that they are motivated by the prestige value of identity with the Republican party.

Another factor in determining our decision not to place too much emphasis here on Negro political activity in the North is the imminence of the 1940 presidential election. This election

is highly vital to any real appraisal of the present trend in Negro voting. It will only be after the 1940 election returns are in and carefully analyzed that it will be possible to determine just how solid the shift of the Negro vote from Republican to Democratic has been. Will the black vote, which followed the bread and butter appeal of the New Deal from 1932 to 1936, return to the Republican fold? Both major parties are obviously devoting serious attention to the black vote—the Democrats to

hold it and the Republicans to recapture it. The Republicans have traditionally paid lip service at least to the Negro cause as bait for the Negro vote, as the Republican platforms from 1884 to 1940 well illustrate.’ The major political parties employ all possible means of influencing the Negro to vote the “right way.” One of the essential ~ tactics involves purchasing the support of the Negro press. As the strategic power of the Negro vote in the North has increased,

greater importance has been placed upon the distribution of party publicity and propaganda among the black voters. Large sums are set aside for Negro publicity. Negro publicity directors

are appointed and the party campaign chests offer suitable inducements to the Negro press. A good many of the Negro minis-

ters and lodge leaders in the North are important political figures, and during the heat of the campaign, church and lodge meetings are often converted into political forums. Not infrequently, candidates are “invited” to speak from the pulpits of Negro churches, and it is well known that many ministers and lodge leaders “cash in” on their efforts in behalf of candidates bidding for the Negro vote. In a recent conference of a large Negro church organization, a politics section was chosen whose

duty it was to determine what party the church organization would support in the coming presidential campaign. Once this determination was reached, the decision was to be mandatory on all ministers in the organization. The presumption was clear 7. See pp. 1247-51 of the original Bunche memorandum for a summary of these platforms. —ED.

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 93 that the support of the organization would be sold for a sizable consideration—a fair deal in view of the fact that the influence of the church group among Negroes was great. This political activity of the churchmen and lodge leaders is not a peculiarly Negro but a typical American pattern. It is difficult to assess the real benefits accruing to the Northern Negro from his political activities. Before 1932 the great concentration on presidential campaigns paid only small dividends to the Negro masses, though Negro political leaders often plucked juicy patronage plums. But the New Deal for the first time gave broad recognition to the existence of the Negro as a national problem and undertook to give specific consideration to this fact in many ways. The immediate gains from political activity have resulted from the strategic role played by the black

electorate in municipal campaigns. Here the Negro of the Northern cities has been able to trade his vote for tangible results—better schools, playground facilities, sanitation improvements, hospital accommodations, police and fire protection, transportation services, and improved lighting and paving. The question is often raised as to whether the Negro vote is or should be a solid bloc vote. It is not so now, and I do not believe that it should be, even assuming that it were possible to make it so. Nevertheless, the Negro vote assumes its greatest importance when it is voted as a single bloc and is able to hold the balance of power between opposing factions or parties. It has played a rather spectacular role in Chicago in this respect. This has been the real significance of the Negro vote in the North and West. It is easy to exaggerate the extent of this sort of

Negro political influence, however. At the present time rather wild claims are made by some Negro leaders to the effect that the Negro holds the balance of political power in seventeen states. Actually, however, such claims are based not upon the effective Negro vote but upon Negro proportions of the population, and they assume that the black vote is a one-way or bloc vote operating in a no-man’s-land between warring white polit-

ical factions. One such claim states that there are 1,800,000 Negro votes in eighty-nine congressional districts located west of Columbus, Ohio, and in a three-hundred-mile area north and south of the Mason-Dixon line. These 1,800,000 votes are said to

represent the strategic vote of the Negro. This is the area in which the Negro gave the support to the Republican party that helped to perpetuate that party in office with only minor interruptions for more than half a century. The point is, of course,

94 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

that these figures are based not on the Negro voting population but on the Negro population of voting age. And to accept such

contentions, one has to assume that every Negro twenty-one years of age and over in this area votes—an assumption that is palpably false. The fact that the Negro vote has been a very significant power in certain Northern areas is definitely true, and

the strength of Negro participation in Chicago, Detroit, and New York bears this out, but such influence must always be

carefully analyzed. |

It has not been possible for us to work up any thorough account of the extent of Negro officeholding. Independent Negro candidates are rarely successful, even though the Negro vote may be a race-conscious vote; the machine power is usually too great for the independent to overcome. One of the most effective

devices employed to defeat a threatening Negro candidate is that which encourages or buys multiple Negro candidates in order to split the black vote and permit the white candidate to win. It is significant, too, that successful Negro candidates for higher elective offices are sometimes the successors to retiring white candidates who have long been maintained in office as the friend of the Negro by black votes. Election districts are so drawn that the full force of the vote in the concentrated Negro population areas cannot be taken advantage of, and, consequently, despite the large black population in most of the Northern cities, it is virtually impossible to elect a Negro to Congress without considerable support from the white vote. The hope for a Negro congressman from New York depends upon the organi‘zation among the black electorate of sufficient strength to force

the party machine to select Negro instead of white candidates for the office. Although we have not been able to present an accurate and detailed description of the extent to which the Negro holds public

office, it appears quite certain that the trend is toward a slowly but ever-widening horizon for Negro appointive and elective officeholders. The Negro has broken through a great many barriers in this respect, and it is not uncommon in many of the state legislatures, in municipal courts, and in city councils, even in the border states, to find Negro representatives. Most of the appointive offices held by Negroes have been dictated by reasons of political strategy. Many of the appointive officeholders, however, are individuals of unusual competence, and in training and ability are quite able to hold their own with the white ap-

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 95 pointees. The fact that Negro candidates can now undertake to run in many Southern localities without causing any particular community furore is in itself significant. The great majority of attempts to return Negroes to elective offices have failed, but some of these contests have been surprisingly close. Such was the case in Dallas, Texas, in 1935, when a Negro, A. S. Wells, ran for the state legislature in a special elec-

tion to fill a vacancy. Because this was a special election, Ne-

groes were able to vote and to run for office. Seventy-three per- | sons sought the nomination to fill this vacancy and sixty-three actually ran for the office. Wells, the only Negro in the field, placed fifth in this election—receiving 1,001 votes. The legislative seat was won by a white candidate with 1,844 votes. There were enough Negroes registered and eligible to vote to have enabled Wells to win, but only 40 percent of those qualified to vote

actually went to the polls, possibly because of fear of the Ku Klux Klan terror. The Klan had published a leaflet warning Negroes to stay away from the polls and pinned these on the doors of Negro homes. In addition, Wells was a politician of the old

school and did not have the unanimous support of the Negro people. He was not the best possible choice. Moreover, he was publicly antireligious, and this alienated Negro church followers.

Although the list of attempts to gain representation to elec- . tive offices is characterized by failure after failure, Negroes have enjoyed varying degrees of success in having members of their race given appointive positions. It is believed that the emergence of the Negro as a serious political factor has a direct bearing on

the number and importance of the appointive positions held, and the field material tends to support this point of view. In the South it is found that, except in a few cases, the most promising situations exist in the border states. It must be emphasized from the beginning that a study of the

participation of the Negro in national administrative government is not merely the study of an isolated phenomenon. Its significance is that insofar as it portrays the participation of an important minority group in the governmental process, just in that degree does it show how successfully American democracy

has worked with regard to that particular group. And it is realized that this in turn is related to the workings of democracy on the entire national scene when it is discovered that the entrance of the Negro into administrative government, as well as

96 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

the innovations in the positions held, occurs in two great periods of upsurge in American democracy, namely, the Reconstruction and New Deal periods. Although the emphasis here will be placed on the New Deal period, it is very important that some attention be given to the historical aspect of the subject. This is especially true of the era of Reconstruction and its aftermath, for this was the period of the greatest participation of the Negro in general national politics, and it was also in this period that the political future of the Negro was determined, was set, and was sealed. Until recent times this historical background of the Negro people was either

willfully neglected or consciously distorted, since the story of their widespread involvement in Reconstruction politics was not

in harmony with disfranchisement and the attempt to “keep them in their place.” But because of the works of Du Bois and others, this story is slowly filtering through the walls of rabid distortion to become the cultural property of the Negro people. It is equally true, of course, that there is a strong tendency for Negroes, on their part, also to distort the story, and to grind the Negro side of the ax. Yet it is still possible for a newspaper writer

to have a “Do You Know?” column concerning Negroes who have served in certain high governmental positions.

For convenience and clarity this subject has been divided roughly into three periods: the “pioneer” period, 1865-1900; the period of traditional appointments, 1900-1932; and the New Deal period. The justification for this division is the existence of certain peculiarities in each period as regards the type of men who participated, the kind of positions held, and the relation of the positions of those in them to the welfare of the general Negro population. It will be shown that the men of the Re-

construction period were national figures in political life and that they were sufficiently aggressive and politically able to take advantage of a favorable situation and enter into high positions

never before held by Negroes. They clung to those positions, even after the death knell of Reconstruction was sounded, and thus set the pattern for future black appointments. During the second period these positions were to become traditional “Negro positions” to be held automatically by those in party circles who “delivered the vote.” The professional politicians seemed satisfied to fight only for these positions and no others; as a result, they gradually lost major positions while others became modified. Finally, the positions held under the New Deal represent a

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 97 radical break with the past because of their novelty and the entirely different character of the appointee, as well as the method of appointment. The first two periods will be dealt with only in order to throw light on the degree of participation, but the last period will be treated more fully, and an analysis of each significant position held will be made.°®

The unusual entrance of Negroes into New Deal positions evoked widespread and varied comment. In the South, the Georgia Women’s World, a hysterical anti-New Deal newspaper,

printed pictures of Mrs. Roosevelt with Mrs. Mary McLeod Bethune and other Negro officials, and in its attempt to appeal to popular prejudices, claimed that the New Deal was advocating “social equality” and that Negroes were “taking over the White House.” Among Negroes the reaction was equally varied. In his syndicated column, one venerable Negro educator maintained that a group of “handkerchief heads” and “Uncle Toms” had been brought into the government, while some Negro newspapers lauded the appointments as great steps forward. The pitfall in evaluating these positions is the general lack of criteria for measuring administrative performance. To this may be added the novelty and short duration of these particular positions. When the New Deal found peculiar problems were arising

from the impact of its expanded program upon a minority group, it called in “advisers” and “specialists” in an attempt to

smooth out its difficulties. These Negro advisers were not brought in to be mere figureheads, but to aid actively in the prosecution of a socio-economic program. In some cases they were brought in only after blunders had been made and vigorous protests registered. If the stated purpose of establishing these positions was to integrate the Negro into governmental agencies and their services, then the evaluation must be centered around two questions: (1) to what degree do these positions represent integration into governmental agencies; and (2) to what degree do they aid participation of the Negro in governmental services? Although questions of personal initiative and alertness may arise, an objective analysis should be confined to the powers inherent in these positions, since most 8. These three periods and many of the major Negro officeholders are discussed in pp. 1359—1460 of the original Bunche memorandum. A summary of Negro officeholders for the years 1911—34, as mentioned in the NAACP’s monthly journal, Crisis, is provided in chapter 17, pp. 1461—71, of the original memorandum. —ED.

98 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

of the appointees are highly conscious of the condition of their race and have made use of their power, in varying degree, toward bettering that condition. The administrative position of the New Deal Negro personnel is quite varied. The weakest positions are those of advisers

who are merely called in for advice and are responsible to

division or bureau heads as well as to their immediate chief. The strongest positions are those in which the racial specialist directs

an office or a division which is autonomous and on the same line with the other divisions in the agency. Excellent examples of the latter are the Division of Negro Affairs [directed by Mary McLeod Bethune] in the National Youth Administration and the Office of Racial Relations in the United States Housing Authority. These positions also have a voice in the selection of Negro

personnel in their units, and in Mrs. Bethune’s office their advisory power is exercised on a national scale. The small number of blacks in the two offices in the agricultural field is a special weakness, since Negroes are heavily concentrated in agriculture, and it is in this field that the greatest racial problems are found. The largest number of these appointments is in the

emergency agencies, and therefore they may be considered temporary. Although some agencies are being continued or made permanent, there is no assurance of tenure, as can be seen by the drastic curtailments in the Public Works Administration in 1939. Out of a list of 103 Negro New Deal appointees, there have been 23 resignations and 3 curtailments. The resignation of over 20 percent is significant, since most have resigned in order to return to their former fields of endeavor, indicating that they attach no security or permanence to their positions. In evaluating these offices, one should not lose sight of their relation to the administrative units within which they operate. Since it is a general administrative practice that subordinates are loyal to their chief and adhere to his policies, it is no surprise that there is found a significant correlation between the liberality of administrative heads and the latitude given to Negro advisers. Thus it was one of the foremost ideologists of the New

Deal, Harold L. Ickes, who first established a race relations office in which the first objective measures against discrimination were also worked out. The development of objective measures against discrimina-

tion in the administrative rules governing the allocation of funds represents a definite advance toward the guarantee of equality to minority groups and means that corrections can

THE NEGRO IN CONTEMPORARY POLITICS 99 be effected before the passage of major phases of administra-

tive activity. It also strengthens the administrative position of the race relations office. This leads to the question of the integration of the Negro into the regular branches of the administrative agencies, for this represents the ideal long-time trend. The majority of the present positions represent reactions to an undesirable situation, and supposedly, to the extent that these conditions are eradicated, will no longer be necessary. Therefore, the entrance of Negro personnel into regular positions not

only supplements the special positions, but marks the beginning of the full integration of the Negro into administrative government. The present distribution of Negro employees in the govern-

ment is uneven and woefully inadequate. A majority of them

are in custodial positions while the rest are in responsible places, but there is lack of employment in the typical positions which make up the great bulk of governmental jobs—the clerks, stenographers, and typists. In some agencies the advisers on

Negro problems constitute almost the sole Negro personnel other than the custodial workers. In the USHA, in addition to those employed in the Office of Racial Relations, Negroes perform regular work in the technical, legal, management review, finance, and accounts divisions; they are also employed as reviewing and consulting architects. Not only are Negroes in administrative government limited

by handicaps inherent in the weakness of their positions and the traditional conservatism of administrative agencies, but their attempts to bring the services of their agencies to the Negro population are limited by certain factors which lie in the American social pattern. There is a wide gap between the concern of Americans for social advance and their concern for the miserable conditions of their fellow citizen, the Negro, and in the South there is hardly concern for either. Americans have been quick to respond to the attempts of the New Deal to regulate wages and hours, to pass housing legislation, to enact social security laws, and to enlarge federal aid to agriculture and education. But they have been slow to respond to governmental attempts to pass the benefits of this legislation to the Negro. Many of the contradictions in New Deal policy as it affects the Negro may be traced to this lethargy and to the strong, although waning, support it had to maintain among Southern Democrats. Yet when the past is viewed, it must be concluded that these

positions, with all of their handicaps, represent a distinct ad-

100 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

vance for Negroes. They represent the first feeble steps in a desirable direction—the full integration of the Negro into admin-

istrative government. If the Negro minority is to further this trend, it must seek to retain, strengthen, and make full use of these positions. Although the existence of such positions is no sure protection, it is doubtful whether hundreds of thousands of dollars and many services would have gone to black citizens had they not existed, and the personnel policies of certain advisers have achieved definite steps toward administrative integration.

Interesting in this connection was a conference held in 1939 under the auspices of the National Lobby Committee to guarantee that Negro administrative assistants would not be laid off because of the President’s Reorganization Bill No. 1, and to seek

to insure equitable inclusion of Negroes in the new structure created by executive reorganization.

Finally, it should be emphasized that the struggle to strengthen the position of the Negro in administrative government is inextricably tied up with the general minority struggle for political, social, and economic equality. There is great danger that, in pursuing such aims, a minority group might concentrate on its own specific problems and forget the broader fight for social advance. If any lesson can be learned from history, it

is that this constitutes social suicide. The men of the Reconstruction era made their advance by carefully and astutely weighing the general social and political forces at work. Today these forces are far more favorable to the Negro, and, even though the elements of reaction are strong, advantage can be taken of this situation to achieve a significant step along the road toward full integration of the Negro into national adminis-

trative government—and the broader frame of American

politics. !

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Conclusion

NEGROES constitute roughly one-tenth of the total American population. This black section of the citizenry tends to diffuse itself increasingly throughout the country, though its great concentration is still found in the Deep South. In the decade of the 1920s, some 1,500,000 Negroes migrated from the South to the North, most of them settling in the industrial centers. Today ap-

proximately 32 percent of the total Negro population of the North is found in New York (327,706), Chicago (233,903), and Philadelphia (219,599). At least ten Southern cities boast black populations in excess of 50,000. This diffusion of the Negro population has converted the “Negro problem” into a distinctly national rather than sectional one. The future of the American Negro is a problem of the national society. It is to be solved only through opportunity for development and through assimilation into the political and economic life of the nation. The Negro has for centuries contributed his labor, his intelligence, his blood, and even his life to the development of the country. He asks nothing from American society except that it consider him as a full-fledged citizen, vested with all of the rights and privileges granted to other citi-

zens; that the charter of liberties of the Constitution apply to the black as to all other men. The Negro citizen has long since learned that “special” treatment for him implies differentiation on a racial basis and inevitably connotes inferior status. In a world in which democracy is gravely besieged and its very foun-

dations shaken, the United States must consider seriously the implications of its own failure to extend the democratic process 103

104 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

in full to some thirteen million of its citizens whose present status tends to make a mockery of the Constitution. The thinking Negro appreciates fully the difficulties inherent in the Amer-

ican social system. He recognizes that deep-seated social attitudes are not quickly changed. Yet it can be readily understood that, in a world in which dogmas of racial superiority and racial persecution assume an increasingly dominant role, the Negro views with great alarm the stubborn persistence of racial bigotry in America.

The Negro asks only his constitutional right when he demands that the laws of the United States be designed so as to extend their benefits to black as well as to white citizens, and that political parties, governmental agencies, and officials pledge themselves to extend the full measure of law and constitution to all men, regardless of race, color, or creed. Never since the Civil War has the Constitution assumed such vital impor-

tance in the ordering of the country. The future of the Negro rests with the future of democracy, and Negroes in great numbers now know that every blow struck in behalf of democracy is a blow for the black man’s future. It is to be noted, too, that there is a virtual identity of fundamental interest between Negro and white citizens. The Negro is

learning rapidly that whatever relief is extended to the white workingman is reflected in improved conditions for the black laborer; that whatever is done for the white tenant farmer beneficially affects the Negro tenant farmer; that whatever housing provision is made for low-income whites will also ameliorate the wretched housing conditions of millions of Negroes, even though seldom in proportionate degree. The great masses of Negroes remain disfranchised. But those Negroes of the North, East, and West who do vote have a much keener sense than formerly of the uses to which the ballot can _be put. They know that the ballot is negotiable and can be exchanged for definite social improvements for themselves. There

is no longer blind loyalty to one party, based upon traditional . attachment. The Negro regards the vote as a new bargaining power.

The white voter ballots according to his individual, sectional, and group interests. The Negro votes on the basis of identical interests, but the social system of America dictates that he must give prior consideration to his racial group interests. So long as the dual social system persists in the United States, just so long must the Negro justifiably expect that political parties desiring

CONCLUSION 105 his political support will devote specific attention to ways and means of Negro betterment in framing their platforms. The Negro finds himself in the uncomfortable position of decrying racial differentiation, while being compelled to demand it when

important political policies are being formulated, in order to hold his ground in an uncongenial social milieu.

The Negro is a taxpayer and thus has a vital stake in the financial policy of the government. The black citizen, like the white, knows instinctively that the major share of the nation’s tax burden is borne ultimately on the shoulders of the mass working and consuming population. The state of the nation’s credit and the stability of the currency are closely linked with the Negro’s struggle up the economic ladder. Taxes, especially the sales taxes of the Southern states, weigh heavily upon him. Certainly the Negro has strong reasons for hoping that national budgets will be balanced, that taxes in the lower income brackets will be lowered, and that a policy of governmental economy will be adopted. The Negro may wish for all of this, yet his very position in society creates an inescapable dilemma, in that he constitutes a disproportionate part of that section of the population which has survived during the past eight years only be-

cause of governmental largess. With conditions as they now are, the Negro has no alternative but to choose relief and relief work over tax reduction and governmental economy. It is either that or starvation for millions. In the face of such alternatives, the nicer subtleties of public “economy” arguments leave great numbers of Negroes untouched and unconvinced. In a world in which narrow racial attitudes and dogmas have become so intimately identified with the policy of governments, and in which minority peoples are so sorely beset, our foreign policy is of vital import to the black population. The interests of

the Negro, as of all minority peoples, are gravely menaced by the ravages of dictators who despoil democracy; who hold human liberty and equality up to scorn; who rape minority peoples; and who preach “Aryan” superiority as a religious creed. In the economic realm, the Negro as a low-income group is necessarily concerned that the United States pursue a balanced tariff

policy which will reasonably protect the consuming public against exceedingly high prices for the necessities of life and yet preserve the traditional American wage standard. For many years the Negro stood by the Republican party because of traditional allegiance to the “party of abolition” and its great leader, Abraham Lincoln. This party, it was thought, per-

106 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

sonified that strong central government which would protect the Negro against the excesses of the Southern states. It was only logical that the Negro should look askance at the doctrine of state rights. It is now rather bewildering to Negroes, therefore, to discover that the two major parties seem to have changed positions. The Republican party as the party of the opposition in the current campaign will need to explain carefully to Negroes

this shift in position. It must give convincing, concrete assurances that in such vital matters as relief, social insurance, med-

ical care, education, public employment, housing, and agricul- , tural benefits the Negro will not again be thrown to the wolves (as he was after Reconstruction ) and left, unprotected, to the not-too-tender mercies of a racially bigoted South. There is also the danger, not too widely recognized perhaps, that excessive

centralization and bureaucracy in the national government may tend to cement the Negro in a permanent position of segregated inferiority in society. This tendency is already noted in the administration of the Federal Housing Administration and the Tennessee Valley Authority. Yet the Negro voter is apt to agree that even segregated, inferior benefits from the federal government are better than little or none at all from the states. If democracy is to survive the severe trials and buffetings to which it is being subjected in the modern world, it will do so

only because it can demonstrate that it is a practical, living philosophy under which all people can live the good life most abundantly. It must prove itself in practice, or be discredited as a theory. Democratic nations such as our own have an obligation to all mankind to prove that democracy, as a form of gov-

ernment, as a practical means of human relationships, is a working and workable concept. This America can do only by abandoning the shallow, vulgar pretense of limited democracy

—under which some are free and privileged and others are permanently fettered. The Negro, and especially the Negro in the South, already has had too vivid an experience with embryonic fascism in the very shadow of democracy. Within our own gates are found intense racial hatreds, racial ghettoes, and

racial differentials that saturate the political, economic, and social life of the nation. It has been pointed out in this memorandum that the virtually complete disfranchisement of the Negro in the South at the turn of the century came, not through any fault of his own making,

not because he was a poor citizen or was incapable of partici-

pating in political processes, but primarily because he was

CONCLUSION 107 identified with a party to which the majority of Southern whites were opposed. The black citizen was the victim in a conscious, deliberate, and profitable exploitation of race consciousness by Southern demagogues and politicians. Already, in the South, political morality had reached a new low in the period in which

Populism created divisions in the white society and Negroes were enabled to wield a temporary balance of political power. The South reacted by removing the Negro—a mere pawn— from the political scene, and by making itself solidly white politically.

This was, quite definitely, a severe rebuff and a source of serious disillusionment to the Negro citizen, who had built up high hopes of attaining the full stature of American citizenship. Negro politicians lost the opportunities for their careers, and Negro leaders generally were confronted with the ironical necessity of encouraging Negroes to become good and loyal citi-

zens, even though they could not participate in the affairs of state. But such reactions and disillusionment were confined largely to the educated Negroes, to the leaders and the aspiring Negro middle and upper classes. That is to say, the disfranchisement of the Negro—or of the poor white by the poll tax today— is of more vital concern to those who believe in the preservation of democracy as the only way of retaining the real values in national life than it is of direct concern to the disfranchised them-

selves. The Negro in the cotton field who had never had the ballot missed it less than democracy needed him to exercise it. In recent years Southern Negroes have begun to reenter poli-

tics, often through the Democratic party. But to date this has not extended much beyond the Negroes of the upper classes. The lower-class Negro, the working-class and peasant black of the region, is still politically virgin. In this he is joined by many thousands of poor whites. When the Negro was disfranchised in the South, he was on the wrong side of the political fence. Recently in the South he has begun to get on the “right” or Democratic side, and this may

be a form of voting insurance for him in the future, though such a development can by no means be predicted at the moment. There has certainly been a gradual easing of the barriers

against Negro voting in the Southern region, with respect to both laws and opinion. This has encouraged the Negro to seek to regain his franchise. This trend is still largely restricted to the urban centers, but it does seem unmistakable. Still, the real test in the South remains in the Negro’s ability to break through

108 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

the white primary. All else is largely futile until this obstacle is surmounted. There are those who look to the Negro electorate as a great potential source of votes in support of liberal and re-

form movements in the South. But this hope is as devoid of foundation under present restraints on Negro voting as is the alleged threat of “black domination.” The most cogent argument in support of Negro enfranchisement in the region today is that the potential black voter, like the white voter under the poll tax burden, is subject to the control of the white politicians who determine who and how many can vote, and thus Keep the political power “on tap.” And by what means can the Negro hope to win the right to

exercise the franchise? What can he expect from the Constitution and the courts? The simple truth is that, short of another civil war, the Supreme Court cannot enforce its decisions when they are confronted by a hostile public. Only an executive branch willing to back up the judgments of the court with the full strength of the armed forces could put teeth in such decisions. This is a major dilemma for the court, in that whenever it does present a fearless, honest opinion on some right of the Negro, it is likely to see that judgment widely flouted and made

| quite ineffectual, as in Strauder v. West Virginia (1880). In seeking escape from this dilemma, the court has often at-

tempted to maintain its judicial dignity by paying lip service to the constitutional principles of protection and equality, while nimbly sidestepping the danger of running afoul of public opinion by countenancing not very subtle evasions of the spirit of the law. This resort to legal fiction in order to avoid social con-

flict is well illustrated in the case of Grovey v. Townsend (1935), in which Justice Roberts opined that justice for the Negro is served in Texas, when the Negro—excluded from the Democratic primary, which actually takes the place of the general election—is permitted to go through the useless exercise of casting a shadow vote at the general election.

The Negro should press with all vigor his fight before the courts for the full recognition of his constitutional rights. Court decisions, favorable or unfavorable, serve to dramatize the plight of the race more effectively than any other recourse; their propaganda and educative value is great. Certainly appeal to the courts is a useful tactic for an oppressed minority group, and it is fortified by the fact that the Negro cause is honest and just. But the problems of the Negro cannot be solved at the bar. The courts cannot uproot deep-seated social prejudices; they can never bring on a social revolution.

CONCLUSION 109 The so-called Negro problem in America is only incidentally a racial one. Many of its roots go deeper than race and are themselves embedded in the fundamental problems of economic conflict and distress which afflict the entire society. The primary in-

terests of the Negro are inextricably tied up with the interests of the masses in the dominant population. Therefore, court decisions such as those upholding the Wagner Act, social security legislation, and minimum wage and hour enactments will in the long run do much to better the condition of the Negro. Every advance made toward lessening the conflict between labor and capital, between laborer and laborer, between white and black

workers—in fact, any legislation designed to increase the security of the workingman’s present and future—is of the most fundamental significance for the Negro and for all other minority groups in the United States. The courts can never save the Negro from an America torn asunder by industrial conflict and its inevitable by-products, racial intolerance and bigotry. In these critical days of violent ideological conflict, when all thinking is confused and things political and economic are in a state of flux, it is important to the Negro’s political and economic future here that he be clear in his own thinking. There is an annoying indifference among Negroes of all classes— from day laborers to the highest ranks of the intelligentsia— about what is transpiring in the rest of the world; and where thought is given to the subject, itis often distorted and confused.

We may mention, for “laboratory” purposes and in attenuated

form, a half dozen typical Negro reactions, often heard recently, toward the European conflagration and its threat to the Negro’s future here: 1. Nazism or fascism is nothing new to the Negro, since he has always experienced it in the South anyway. 2. The Negro couldn’t be any worse off than he now is in the Deep South. Therefore, an American fascism would make little difference to him. 3. American democracy is so imperfect, so hypocritical in its shabby treatment of the Negro, that unless it can quickly perfect itself and demonstrate its workability, it doesn’t deserve to survive.

4. Even under fascism there would always be a need and a place for the Negro in America, since he is indispensable to the profit economy of the great American white middle class.

o. The war abroad is an “imperialist” war; the Negro and the United States should have nothing to do with it. Let us concentrate on achieving democracy at home; let us win freedom

110 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

and equality for labor and the Negro first; “the Yanks are not coming.” (This is the “line” of the American Communist party, and it is being parroted by many Negroes who unknowingly fall into its subtle trap. )

6. The war is a white man’s war and a good thing for the Negro. Let the white folks kill each other off and then the “black Aryans” will be the master race and rule the world.

Any attempt at logical thinking must be controlled by the answer to the very practical question: “What are the alternatives confronting the Negro today?” In the first place, he is not permitted the luxury of choosing between ideal systems. He is socially blind even if he permits himself to build his hopes in such a dream world. The Negro must take his immediate choices from imperfect, buffeted democracy, on the one hand, and totalitarianism, on the other. And this may be a privilege which will not long endure even in his thinking. Negroes are all too familiar with the many and serious shortcomings of American democracy; but they know, though they do not always recall, that democracy as a concept, as a way of life, has afforded them the sole basis for whatever progress they have made as a

group since slavery, for the heroic struggle they have incessantly waged, for their aspirations in the future. Democracy, even imperfect democracy, has been the ideological foundation upon which Negro life has been based; it has been the spiritual lifeblood for Negroes. As an ideal, it has not progressed very

rapidly in the world we know. But what else has the world to offer the Negro? If I were perched in a window on the top floor of a burning building and below me were some typical slitmouthed, washboard-neck specimens of the Southern “cracker” type holding a net and yelling profanely: “Jump, you blanketyblank nigger!”—-I would jump. I would resent the insult, resent the “crackers,” and feel not at all happy about the fire that created the unpleasant situation. But I would indeed jump, and then having landed safely, proceed to “cuss” them out for calling me “nigger”—unless the fire happened to be in Mississippi.

The other alternative, as we have said, is totalitarianism— the authoritarian state, dictatorship. In terms of the immediate menace, this must be considered to be the brand of fascism peddled by Herr Hitler. Russian totalitarianism—the other side of the fascist coin—is significant to us now only insofar as the purge-drunk dictator Joseph Stalin sees it to his interest to support or oppose Hitler and the Soviet-Nazi pact. Hitler’s nazism —National Socialism—is a world-revolutionary movement. It

CONCLUSION 11] involves a revolution in the political, economic, and social spheres of modern life. This cannot be impressed too greatly upon contemporary Americans. It is the martial state in which all values are the values of war.

First of all, it considers constitutional democracy as an archaic, outworn political system, because of its inefficiency; its toleration of opposition within the state; its decentralization of

power; its concept of individualism and the right of the individual as against the state; its devotion to concepts of individual freedom, liberty, will, and human equality. German fascism jettisons the democratic institutions of government—the legislatures, parliaments, and constitutions; the process of elective officeholders; the exercise of a free franchise by the people— and replaces all of these with a dictator, a ruler whom all must worship, whose mere word is law, and who governs with the mailed fist—a Hitler or a Mussolini. No opposition is tolerated, and dissenters are liquidated by means of the concentration camp and the firing squad. In the economic sphere, German fascism substitutes for private capitalism or socialism a powerful “planned” state economy. In the economic sphere, as in the political, all freedom is destroyed. The sharecropper or day laborer in darkest Mississippi has more economic freedom and, even if he is a Negro, more civil liberty than the Aryan worker of Germany today. In the social realm racial tolerance is decried by the fascist states as a fatal weakness of democracy. For the concept of human equality there is substituted the concept of the superior race, of the German or Aryan master and ruling race, which is predestined to rule the world. Thus, politically, economically, and socially under German fascism, there is created the essential slave state—a state to which obedience is assured through the frightfully efficient and ruthless operation of the gestapo or secret police. And now, before this realistic backdrop, to comment briefly upon the specific Negro reactions previously mentioned.

First, the American South is not fascistic. The South is neither totalitarian nor highly centralized; it more nearly approaches the chaotic. It is prejudice-bitten and lacking in morality, but at the same time irrational in its treatment of the Negro.

Life for the Negro in the South would be far harsher under a highly centralized, highly rational, and brutally efficient fascism which would give total, authoritative expression to the Southern doctrine of white supremacy. Second, the Negro in the South—and in the North—would

112 §$THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

be in a hopelessly distressing plight once there occurred in this country a complete destruction of the concepts of human rights, liberty, and privilege, and of the constitutional basis for their appeals to justice. That would create for Negroes an entirely new world, devoid, for them, of either rights or hopes. Third, to say that if democracy cannot perfect itself and accord Negroes proper treatment they will have none of it, is, in these times, sheer nonsense and racially suicidal. It is not intelligent to think of burning down the barn in order to destroy the rats. This “all or nothing” position employs the liberty afforded by democracy to aid and abet, not its perfection, but its destruction in times of stress. Fourth, Negroes cannot rely for their future upon the great American middle class. They must reckon upon the possibility that a total victory by Hitler in Europe would produce economic repercussions here that could throw the American middle class into hysteria and economic collapse. The neutralization of our huge gold stores, the loss of trade in Europe, and the necessity for astronomical sums for defense would all hit the Negro, as

a marginal population, first, last, and most severely—if not fatally. Fifth, white people have no monopoly on fascist ideology or on human exploitation. Black, brown, and yellow tyrants in a

world in which white supremacy would be destroyed would be |

suffering. ,

as ruthless as the present white ones. Changing the colors of the

aspiring master races of the world is no solution to human

Sixth, the Communist position is sophistry of the cheapest variety. To say that we should ignore the imperialist war and bend all efforts to perfect democracy at home, in the world today, is deliberately to mislead the Negro, and to set a cunning trap for him. The Communists know that the Negro can always be enthralled by appeals for his rights. But the Communists, who are no longer radicals, want Negroes to forget that it was only a year or so ago that they were urging blacks to support, in their own interest, the fight for democracy in Spain—and they were right then. That was when Hitler and fascism were regarded as the twin forces of darkest evil for the liberty-loving, working masses of the world. But then came the Communist shift from the popular front line, the Soviet-Nazi pact, and now Russia and the Communists are on the other side. The vital war question for Negroes is “who will win it?” England, and France,

before her collapse, gave recognition to the basic concepts of

CONCLUSION 113 the democratic way of life, even though they were guilty of serious violations of the rights of certain subjects. But even now, during the war, African natives in British colonies are able to publish criticisms of government policy that would put a fine Aryan German worker in a concentration camp.

The Negro faces grave danger from the repercussions of a Nazi victory in Europe—less from the possibility of direct military invasion than from the penetration of Nazi ideology. Hitler also wages a total psychological war. To reassure ourselves on this point, we need only refer to his long string of broken promises, his brazenly false “reassurances” to Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, and the low countries, and, until now, his successful reliance upon the complacency and gullibility of the democracies. The United States has all the necessary raw materials for a native American fascism. It will suffice to enumerate them: racial intolerance; a badly functioning economic system, with widespread and continuing unemployment; a traditional admiration for things that work well and for spectacular successes; a naive mass public, easily deceived, misled, and duped (witness our large crop of successful demagogues); a huge mass of wandering, futureless, discontented, and frustrated youth; a vast South in political, economic, and social chaos; a property- and profit-loving class that will grasp at any straw in a desperate crisis to salvage what it can of its vested interests. And against these factors, to hold the dikes against fascism, we have only what we are told is a traditional and determined love of freedom, individualism, and democracy, for which we will fight to the death. And given fascism here, what of Negroes? Such an eventuality would be ominous indeed. The Negro is no longer indispensable in this country; he is entirely dispensable everywhere. He is

increasingly a relief burden. There are conflicting viewpoints among Southern leaders concerning the question of the need for the Negro in the South. But the fact is that the Negro is not holding his own in employment, and even the South, as cotton culture wanes in one section or becomes mechanized in another, is suddenly awakening to the realization that it can travel its economic road without the aid of its black hands. There are no longer jobs that whites will not take and need. Fascism is a highly rational system. Its ends justify its means. And its ends are to organize the resources of the state for the benefit of the master race. The Negro is already virtually an alien race here. White supremacy under fascism or “one hundred percent Amer-

114 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

icanism” could seal his doom. Under a rational fascism there might well be: no education for the Negro; no government positions for the Negro; no licenses for Negro professional men; no business or automobile licenses for Negroes; no home or land

ownership for Negroes; no legal rights for Negroes in the courts; no political rights for Negroes at the polls; Negro labor

and concentration camps; registration of all Negroes; armband identification for Negroes of all shades; severe penalties for “passing”; decrees for the sterilization of Negroes; expatria-

tion or exile for Negroes, as per Senator Bilbo; no Carnegie Corporation—sponsored studies of the Negro. It is paradoxical that, in a democracy, nearly one-tenth of the

citizens of the nation are refused the right of participation in the democratic process—not through lack of qualification, but solely because of color. There is an obvious and fundamental © inconsistency between the South’s insistence on “white supremacy ’—as well as the tacit acceptance accorded it in the North —and the tenets of democracy.

The Negro in the South must meet all of the obligations of citizenship, including payment of taxes, but he is denied the privilege of citizenship. In no Southern legislature—with the exception of the “border” states—does the Negro have any direct representation. He has no voice in the selection of judges, governors, mayors, and other public officials who are responsible for the protection of his vital rights of life, liberty, and property. A great variety of ingenious legal devices has been conjured up by the Southern states to keep the Negro from the polls. The means employed to disfranchise the Negro frequently have serious social and economic repercussions for the entire mass population of the region. For example, the poll tax prevents poor citizens from voting in eight Southern states. Yet these same states load heavy tax burdens, in the form of sales taxes, on the backs of those least able to pay. Although the Southern Negro has been denied the franchise, his presence has diminished the real significance of the ballot for the white population of that section. For the white South has been compelled to adopt the one-party system and to vote solidly Democratic, and thus has had little opportunity to exercise voting choice except for personalities in primaries. The inevitable objective of the Negro in the South is full citizenship rights. This embraces not merely the exercise of the franchise, but also the right to hold public office. It is certain, and there is no reason to deny it, that if the black ever gains the

CONCLUSION 115 full right of franchise in the South, his next step will be toward office-holding. There are many Negroes qualified to serve as well as white officeholders now do.

There is need for a greatly strengthened corrupt-practices act which will contain specific provisions designed to protect the

Negro in the exercise of the franchise, and which should declare the primary to be an integral part of the electoral process.' The names of political parties which in their nomination pro-

cedure discriminate on the basis of race or color, and the

names of candidates nominated under such conditions, should be barred from the official ballot. The United States Department of Justice should investigate the registration and electoral processes of the Southern states, in congressional and presidential elections, as they affect potential Negro and poor white voters. The results of such investigation should be made public. The South should again be threatened with a reapportionment based exclusively on its white population, unless Negroes are allowed to exercise this constitutional right. The Negro has always been subject to gross discrimination in government employment—in both civil service and non—civil

service branches. While numbers of Negroes are employed by the government, they are generally restricted to menial and custodial tasks. Many well-trained young Negroes do not bother to take civil service examinations, for they know from experience that blacks have little chance of selection, no matter how high

their rating. This results from the nature of the civil service appointment process, in which two factors are of special significance to Negroes. These are (1) the requirement of the photo-

graph on the application for the examination and (2) the discretionary choice, from among the three highest applicants, which may be exercised by the appointing officer. There is a good deal of segregation in the government divisions, too. In non—civil service employment, Negroes customarily have been given some recognition, but only in the form of “political” appointments. These have been merely for purposes of wooing the Negro vote. Under the New Deal a few Negroes have been appointed as “advisers” on questions pertaining to the Negro, but the tendency has been for them to steer clear of the more controversial aspects of the Negro’s problems in order not to displease political bosses and thereby jeopardize their positions. In 1. If the primary were declared to be an integral part of the electoral process, the exclusive white primary would be held illegal. —Ep.

116 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

no single instance has a Negro been appointed to a really responsible, policy-forming position in the federal government. The civil service should be greatly extended in government employment, and competitive examination should be the basis for the selection of all except head administrators in the permanent divisions. The federal government should adopt a broad policy of nondiscrimination in employment against any group because of race or color, on all projects controlled or subsidized by the government. The requirement of the photograph on civil service applications should be abolished, and identification should be by means of finger prints. Civil service appointments should be made strictly on the basis of rating, and the discretionary power of the appointing officer to choose from among the highest three should be abolished. All civil service rating lists should be made public, in order that candidates may be aware of their standing. Inquiries as to race or color appearing on applications for non—civil service positions should be removed, and such appointments should be made without consideration of race. Negroes should be appointed to responsible policy-forming positions in the government service. Negroes should be permitted to enroll in the Foreign Service training schools, and should be given wider and more responsible employment in the Foreign and Consular services. Employment in the offices of the District of Columbia administration should be placed under the civil service, in order that Negroes, who are almost entirely excluded from such employment, may have a

chance at it. It is ultimately detrimental to the interests of Negroes to earmark certain political jobs for them, while excluding blacks from consideration in all others. Such a policy of segregated, “Negro jobs” should be discontinued. Negroes should be considered eligible for all jobs, in accordance with

their training and ability. :

Lynching fills one of the blackest pages in American history. It is an expression of mob law and constitutes a brutal violation of the fundamental principles on which the American government is founded. In its contempt for law and the law-enforcing agencies and in its barbaric manifestations, it has a degenerating influence on society. It is estimated that between 1889 and

1937 a total of 4,681 reported lynchings occurred, and unquestionably many more have gone unrecorded. This record of social perversion is bad enough, but the record of the attitude of law enforcement agencies toward lynchers is much worse. In

CONCLUSION 117 the case of most lynchings, nothing is ever done to punish the murderers, though the identity of the ringleaders of the mob is generally well known to local officials. The states have demonstrated their complete inability or unwillingness to take necessary measures to cope with this evil. Thus the need for a forceful federal statute has been manifest for many years. The first such bill was introduced in Congress in 1920 but was never voted upon. Bitter opposition to it came from the South. The Dyer antilynching bill got through the House of Representatives in 1922, but it was stopped in the Senate by a filibuster led , by Southerners. Since 1922 eight or nine other measures have been introduced in Congress. The solid Southern bloc insists that mob violence is the concern of state and local authorities, and it has bitterly opposed a federal antilynching law in any form. Efforts to put through a bill along the general lines of the Wagner—Van Nuys—Gavagan proposal should not be abandoned. Such efforts test the strength of the democratic process in the country, and any party pledged to a truly democratic program for the nation cannot ignore its responsibility in this direction. The Department of Justice should employ its excellent

facilities to make a careful investigation and record of each lynching, and it should make such record public. When lynching parties cross state lines with their victims, the federal kidnapping law should be invoked. In the final analysis, however, the political burdens borne by the American Negro cannot be legislated away. The roots of Negro disabilities reach deeply into the economic and political

structure of the nation. Negro political ailments are merely symptomatic of more fundamental disorders in the economic system. These disorders cannot be cured by dabbing at the symptoms. The nation’s economic house needs to be put in order. In

the first place, it is useless to think in terms of full Negro citi-

zenship so long as white and black citizens must engage in daily violent struggle for the wherewithal of life. This is the process that feeds fuel to the fires of race prejudice and perpetuates those mores which stand guard against Negro entrance to the polls. The economy must afford a far larger measure of security for all before the Negro can hope for much greater political advancement. This it can do only as a result of

some far-reaching changes in the direction of a socialized economy—at least insofar as the production of the necessities of life is concerned. In the second place, unless the Negro is

118 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A COMMENTARY

permitted to share in the fuller fruits of a more liberal and humane economy, political privilege will become sheer mockery. The black vote will never be influential enough to initiate in and of itself any radical changes in the economy. The ballot without bread would be a tragic jest for the Negro.

PART TWO The Political Status of the Negro: A Survey Based on Field Interviews and Special Reports

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218 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

the registrars sit to purge the list, and then, on the second Mon-

day in February, they sit to hear complaints from those who

are served notice that they have been stricken. Actually, in , Madison County the purging takes much longer, for, according to the chairman of the board of registrars, “I guess if you had

_ three men who knew what they were doing on the board, it would be all right, but one of these men on with me can’t read worth anything and the other one can’t write so you can read it.”1 Finally, every year there are five days of registration (at the courthouse ) beginning the first Monday in July. These latter

registration periods are not advertised because they come at regular times. The newspapers generally carry news stories about them, however.

All of the members of the county board are Democrats. No effort is made to have bipartisan county boards in Alabama. The members of the board receive a stipend of five dollars a day but

no reimbursement for mileage driven on the days regularly authorized. The chairman receives the same amount as the other members. The committee also has the responsibility for putting up the notices at the precincts, and for this the members receive five cents a mile, but no daily allowance. This procedure in Madison County is the general procedure for most counties in the state, though in the urban counties there are some variations. Jefferson County, for example, has a fulltime registrar with an office and a secretary. In Alabama, registrars can be removed from office at any time and at the pleasure of the appointing board (the governor, state auditor, and com-

missioner of agriculture and industries), and without cause. The purging of the election list in Madison County is described as an exceedingly difficult task. First, the registrars get the list of all death certificates given out by the board of health. These certificates provide only the name and the place where the person died. He may not be a resident of the county or, as

in most cases, he may not be a voter. Thus all the registrars have is aname, which may not be correctly given; so they must check through the whole poll list. They have no record of voters who die outside the county, so they must rely on their personal

knowledge. Then, they get a list from the probate judge of those people who have been committed to the insane hospital, and these are checked off. From the circuit clerk they get a list of 1. George Stoney’s interview in Huntsville, Alabama, February 1940. Unless otherwise indicated, all quoted passages in this chapter are taken from Stoney’s notes of field interviews conducted in 1940. —Eb.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 219 those convicted of crimes listed in section 182 of the code. The chairman of the board states that at the last purging “there were only four, and two of them were murderers: You seldom find a person who is convicted of crime to be a qualified voter. I think that’s the best proof of the quality of voters in Madison County.” The chairman does not recall anyone’s ever having been dis-

franchised in the county because he was convicted of wifebeating or petty larceny or vagrancy. The biggest problem of the registrars is that of checking off those people who have moved permanently from the community. Alabama’s law gives a person the right to an absentee ballot

so long as he does not establish a residence in another state. There is no means to determine when a person plans to vote absentee. It is admitted that there are a great many names of people on the list who are dead or who have moved out of the county and do not vote absentee. According to the state law, those stricken from the list are to be given notice by the sheriff in time to appear before the county board at its regular session in February, to show cause why they should not be striken. Also, the names of those removed should be published in a paper of general circulation in time for the people affected to appear and defend themselves. Excepted from both of these provisions are those people who are dead, those convicted of crime, those who have moved permanently from the county, and those committed to an institution for the insane. “Hell!” said the chairman of the Madison County board, “that’s all there are.” So, he publishes no names; the sheriff serves no notices; and the board merely sits all day catching up on its back work. In January 1940, 450 people were purged from the list in Madison County, of whom 338 were dead, 108 had moved out of the county, and 4 were convicted. All of those convicted were white men.

Practically all of the registration in the county is done at the courthouse. The chairman of the county board told George Stoney: “We'll go out to one of these county precincts and sit around all day and not register a man, and then when we come up to the courthouse, fellows from that very spot will come-in a-flockin’. We’re another excuse to come to town.” The hours

at the courthouse are usually from 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 P.M., though it is claimed that sometimes it is 6:00 or 7:00 P.M. before the registrars are able to get away. It should be noted, however, that the “too late” or “office closed” excuse is readily given when Negro applicants appear.

220 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

In Huntsville, the county seat, the registration is done at the courthouse. In other places the registration generally occurs at the polling places, including drug stores, country stores, barber shops, and schools. In one place the registrars “sit out in the middle of the road and take them as they come. I take a card table along and spread out. Last time we sat out on the edge of a bridge all day and not a soul came. Good thing it happened to be a pretty day.” The storekeepers receive no compensation for allowing the board to meet in their places. Most of the storekeepers are glad to have the board, both for the company it gives

them and the trade it attracts. There is a reluctance to use schools for registration, both because of lack of room and be-

cause parents have said that they do not like “having such things around their little children.” The chairman of the Madison County board states that a few people are turned down every period mainly because they are illiterate or not mentally competent. He says that a vast number of people come in to register who can scarcely write their names. To speed up the work and to make possible the legibility of applications, he and one other member of the board fill out

the applications for the people, asking them the questions orally. They do have to sign their names, however. If a man cannot do that, he is given the constitutional test. The chairman cannot recall anyone passing this test who could not write his name. Several attempts to register mentally incapable people

come up each registration period. Some candidate or campaigner will bring such persons in. If the applicant cannot answer the questions orally, the registrars refuse to register him, It takes about fifteen minutes to register each person. Age is taken on affidavit only. But if a false statement is made on

this and it is discovered, the person’s name is simply left off the list of qualified electors. He can then come in and protest to the probate judge in an attempt to get it straightened out. Yet, apparently, no one has ever been prosecuted for such perjury.

This misrepresentation of age is quite common, because the word has circulated that people who become twenty-one between October 1 and February 1 can vote one time without pay-

ing a poll tax. Many applicants come in and give their birth dates to fit in with this position. The mistake, if found at all, is usually discovered when applications are transferred to the registration books and it is found that the applicants were mixed

up in their arithmetic. It is said that about a dozen such cases came up at the last registration period in Madison County. The

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 221 chairman of the county board insists that at least one witness who has known the applicant for a minimum of twelve months must accompany him. “I don’t care if ’ve known him all my life.”

The law requiring a person to have had employment for most of the year preceding registration is, according to the chairman of the board, out of date since woman suffrage. You couldn’t deny a woman

the right to vote because she didn’t have a job, so you can't deny a man the vote for that reason. I never refuse to register

aman on account of that, but I stress it and stress it hard when I go over their applications. Sometimes I make a man think I’m not going to register him for that reason. You see, | like to think of registration as a kind of quality test. People ought to have certain responsibilities.

According to state law, there is to be no registration except on the appointed days and in the appointed places. It is illegal to register a man in any other place except in his home precinct or at the courthouse. The registrars, however, receive calls from many people who wish to be registered out of season, especially those who apply for state jobs under Alabama’s new civil service law, which requires all applicants to be qualified voters. There is no state supervision of registration or of the work of registration board. The board sanctions are judicial and final. They are an examining board, and if two of the three members agree that a man is either fit or unfit, then their decision stands. If they turn a man down, he can appeal to the circuit court and get a writ of mandamus. Then the solicitor of the state would be required to defend the actions of the board without cost to itself or the county. The chairman cannot recall that any such action was ever taken in the county. No manuals or instructions are issued from the statehouse. Members of the board are “assumed” to know what their duties are, yet most of them do not

know, including two of the members of the Madison County board.

The Bibb County registration periods are quite typical in Alabama: ten days in January, five days in July in even years, and five days in July and thirty days between October 1 and De-

cember 31 in odd years. Polling hours are from 8:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M., and the three registrars sit the full time. When they

travel around to the mining camps, they often start at ten o'clock in the morning and work until 4:30 or 5:00 in the after-

222 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

noon, in order that the men can register after they come off work at four o’clock. They sit for six days in January in even years to purge the voting list. The registrars are paid five dollars per day, and one of them receives five cents per mile for tacking up notices of registration at the polling places. The polling places are varied. Three of them are located at company commissaries in the mining camps. The registrar explains that “these are the only public buildings. That is where the men hang out and the most natural place for them to come.” Two of the registration and voting places are small-town city halls. One is a school. Three are on church grounds. The registrars never go into the church. “When it’s cold, we have to stay in the car,” one of them said to Stoney. One polling place is in the courthouse, three are in country stores, and one is “on the side of the road.” Registration is often done from the car. The registrars receive no state supervision, nor do they get any instruction from the state. As one registrar puts it: “We are supposed to read the law and figure it out for ourselves.” The registrars in Bibb County generally fill out the application blanks themselves, asking the people the questions. It is explained that this is “so much faster.” The registrars fill out the

whole blank, including the questions about the witness. The witness is usually the storekeeper or, perhaps, one of the registrars themselves. Very rarely do the applicants for registration bring a witness with them, and the registrars have required this only in a very few cases when people hesitated so long over the question that the board suspected their statements concerning length of residence. The registrars do not test a person’s ability to read and write, providing he can sign his name and answer the questions “intelligently.” During the past two years, only two white people have been denied registration. One of these did not

have the proper residence requirements, and the other was so obviously mentally unbalanced that the registrars voted unanimously to refuse him. The question about “occupation” is filled out very loosely. If an applicant is unemployed, the registrars put down the work he does most often or has done last. The board members never employ the property qualification. The office of probate judge of Bibb County takes no initiative in purging the voting list. As the probate judge himself puts it, “If we see somebody on there and we know he’s dead, naturally

we mark him off.” The judge admitted that the voting list is cluttered with many people who have permanently moved from the county. These people could not be removed because they

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 223 “might take a notion” to vote absentee, which they have a right to do so long as they do not establish a residence elsewhere. In Coffee County, as in most Alabama counties, few people

are registered when the registrars travel around to the beats. The polling places are schoolhouses or country stores. ‘The only

apparent qualification for registrar is that a man must be “a Democratic elector.” In Coffee County the board of registrars sits the regular periods and one extra period—a ten-day period every January (instead of every other January ) which is called for by the county commissioners. The registrars usually write out the applications. For people known to the registrars, many questions are left blank. At a recent registration period in Coffee County, the chairman of the board told us, eight applicants (white) were turned down because they were illiterate “and worse, despite the fact that “the sentiment’s against refusing to register a man unless he’s plumb out crazy.” Also at a recent

registration, one candidate for office brought in a woman of ninety-five to register for the first time and with her was her daughter of seventy-two, who had never cast a vote. Both of these applicants were allowed to register, although neither could write her signature legibly. The registrars never employ the constitutional test or the property test for white registrants, and the question concerning employment is ignored, unless for special reasons the registrars are not sure about the applicant. The voting lists are not purged very thoroughly. The registrars get the names of the dead and the insane from the probate judge. They check with people at the beats as they travel around, and when people are reported to have moved permanently from the county, the registrars have the sheriff notify them that they are being purged. No one ever appears to protest a purge. It is admitted, however, that the absentee ballot law makes it almost impossible to purge the list accurately. The registrar at Tuscaloosa, Alabama, states that often when people come in to register and find out that they must pay up a good deal of back poll taxes, they say they do not wish to do this. In such cases, they are asked not to register, so that their names will not “clutter up” the record. Some known illiterates are regis-

tered when they have property, and the only evidence that others are illiterate is that they cannot sign their names. Formal

constitutional tests are not given, although, as one registrar remarked, sometimes members of the board try to “question a few niggers when they come in.” A member of the board of registrars of Etowah County, a

224 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

woman and grocery store owner, comments on registration qual-

ifications as follows: “I don’t register them that can’t hardly read and write at all. Some of the others have, and I don’t kick. Most of the time, they’s feeble-minded when they're that-a-way anyway.” This registrar refused two or three applicants at the last registration period who were trying to register as having spent some years out of the state. They were refused because they could not give either street or town addresses for the years they had been away. She commented: “They’s lyin’ an’ they know’d it. They’s lyin’ to get out of paying poll tax. You know goddam well if a man lives in a place five years like he says he does, he ought to know the name of the town, at least.” It is admitted that the state provision that the applicant should have had employment is not enforced. She confessed: “I didn’t know nothin’ about that. I registers WPAs and unemployeds and loafers and everybody else that comes in and’s got the other qualifications.” As to witnesses to the applicant’s identity and

the fact that he has been in the county for the last twelve months, officials in the courthouse are usually employed. “The probate judge or the tax assessor signs a lot of them. I sign a lot of them, myself, especially boys and girls who live around here that I’ve watched grow up... . If folks didn’t bring nobody into town with them, they go out on the street and grab the first,one that comes along. They don’t have no trouble about that.” According to the law of the state of Alabama, all three registrars have to be present in order to make the registration legal, and two of the three must agree that a candidate is eligible. One of the registrars of Etowah County, in commenting upon this provision, explained: “If we lived up to that law, we’d have to call time-out every time a body had to go to the bathroom. Hee,

hee, hee... . Lord, ain’t it crazy?” Generally, two of the three registrars are present, and two always sign the application. They do not require the applicants to write out their own applications, however, because “Lord, if we did, we’d never get through. We got to be able to read all that mess.” All the applicant is required

to do is to answer the questions and sign his name. Another board member says, “We register almost anybody. And... people in this county are so ignorant. So many of them can hardly write their names.” This registrar recalled four people

for whom she had to “hold their hand while they made the cross.” All of these were white property owners. Since the regis-

trars will fill out all of the blanks for the people, she does not know exactly how many others are only able to sign their names.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 229 The number of women registering recently in Etowah County has increased, according to one of the registrars; not primarily because women are becoming more interested in politics, but because employers are insisting upon it. States the registrar: “You can’t hardly get a job in none of these big places but what

| they ask if you’re a legal voter. The telephone company, Sears and Roebuck, Kresge’s . . . all of them.” The reason is said to be “labor trouble. These agitators come here and get the people all

stirred up. They know if something ain’t done to stop it soon, were going into communism sure as the Lord.” An inspection of the registration blanks in the office of the probate judge in Gadsden indicates that most of the blanks are made out in two handwritings, which seems to establish the fact

that the registrars do make out the applications for the registrants. It is also noted that the person who “vouches” for the white applicant is usually either a member of the registration board, the probate judge, or someone else in the courthouse.

In Cullman County the registrars do not bother with filling out the second sheet of the application for registration. This second sheet is the one on which information about the witness is to be given. The registrar in Cullman County states: “We

just tear that off and fill out the front and back of the other sheet.” “Ordinarily” the registrars fill out the applications them-

selves, asking the applicants the questions and having them sign the form. During the last registration period, however, the registrars let the applicants take the blanks home and fill them out themselves, because of the overwhelming number of applicants. The registrars even arranged for two WPA workers to help those who could not complete the blanks themselves. No Witnesses are generally required when a person appears personally before the board, nor is there any test made of a person’s ability to read and write. If the applicant can sign his application, that is enough. If he cannot, then “we take his word” about the amount of property owned and the fact that he pays taxes on it. During the recent registration period, says the registrar, “we was in such a hurry, then, we would sign it ourselves if they couldn’t.”

Purging the voting list is considered quite a problem by the registrar in Cullman County. Back in the 1920s, the board decided to clear the list and to notify everybody on it whose name was in doubt. The criminal list was checked carefully and people were called in from the beats to give advice about those who had moved or died, and postcard notices were sent to every per-

226 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

son whom they had considered striking from the list. One of the

present registrars explains what happened: I made more enemies in that one week than in all the rest of my life. Some of the people had moved to somewheres else in the county. We had not aimed to purge them ’til we knowed they was gone, and we said so on the card, but they came in just a-cussin’. That purging law’s all right for a city like Mo-

bile or Birmingham where you don’t know everybody, but here the least little thing you do, folks get mad. In Cullman County they purge for crime very seldom—only for murder or other serious crimes. If a man is sent up for a year or

two, they are afraid to purge him for fear he will be out and have his citizenship restored before election time, “and come up to my place raising hell.” Since 1926, the registrars here have sent out no notices about people being purged, and they do not sit to hear complaints. In Hale County little attention is paid to the matter of getting

people to register and pay poll taxes except by the candidates for office. Registration occurs in the city hall, the courthouse, country stores, and in “precinct houses”—-small wooden huts resembling tourist cabins. There is no state supervision of the work of the registrars. The chairman of the board says no one is registered unless the registrars think that he can fill out his own application. Two applicants were refused on this ground at the last registration period. They were discovered when they could not sign their names. Ordinarily, however, the registrars fill out the blanks for the people and have them sign. It is only when an applicant is not known that a witness is required, and this happens very infrequently, for if the board members do not know the applicant, then the people around the precinct do. Unemployed persons are registered. If the applicant has no job at the time of registration, his latest employment is put down on the application blank. Purging of the lists in Hale County follows the procedure in other Alabama counties. In Dallas County, Alabama, the usual procedure is followed with regard to registration. The registrars do not require that the whole application be filled out. No witnesses are required unless there is some doubt about the person’s identity. The registrars fill out the blanks for their applicants, and signing their names

is the only proof of the applicant’s ability to read and write. There is no supervision by the state, and the registrars are guided by the rulings of the attorney general.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 227 In Lee County during the rush period the office frequently stays open until seven or eight o'clock, taking as many people as come. Country stores and schools serve as registration places for the rural beats. In Auburn registration is at the courthouse. Because so many workers at the cotton mills desire to register, the registrars take a certain number of days off each registration period to sit in the offices of the two textile mills and accept reg-

istrations. Word is left at the courthouse that if anyone comes in to register during this time, he should be sent out to the mills. About half of the people registered in Opelika are mill work-

ers. They move in and out so much that the registrars have a hard time keeping up with them. The bosses at the mill work vigorously to get the men to register, pay their poll tax, and vote.

It is customary for the foremen at the mill to act as witnesses for most of the workers. As one of the local registrars says, “I know a world of them lie to us [about the length of time they have been in the state] but you can’t argue with them when the bookkeeper swears they have.” As each man registers, the bookkeeper of the company asks him, “Do you want to pay this yourself or do you want to have the mill take it out?” Practically all of the men have said that they desire the mill to take out the

poll tax payment. The registrant then signs a paper handed to him by the bookkeeper. Moreover, the foremen “answer half of the questions” the mill workmen are asked when registering. In Lee County the registrars write out the blanks for almost everyone, though occasionally “someone who's real good with a pen” fills out his own. All of the registrants are required to sign

for themselves, however. The witnesses must be people the registrars know personally or the witnesses must appear in person. Except for the mill people, this almost never happens, since the registrants ordinarily name someone in the courthouse.

The only educational test given to white registrants is the ability to sign one’s name. One of the registrars can recall having turned down only one man solely for reasons of illiteracy. This was a mill worker who was brought in at the last registration period. When the man was asked to sign his name, he answered that he did not know how. The fellow worker who had brought him in tried to protect him by stating: “There’s something the matter with your hand, ain’t there?” But the honest registrant denied that anything was wrong with his hand. The aspiring Negro voter is often a source of embarrassment to the Southern registrar. The registrar, however, has it within his power—by subterfuge and device—to protect himself and

228 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

his fellow whites against this menace. One of the registrars of

Lee County speaks very frankly:

We never used any of those things [referring to the consti-

tutional and other tests] against a white man. I'll just be honest with you. We have had a good little bit of trouble with

niggers. ... Way back in 1920, when I was on the board before, we had a world of nigger women coming in to register. There was a dozen of them, I reckon, come in one registration period. We registered a few and then we stopped... . Oh! We

put them off... . Tell them they had to bring in white witnesses. ... Tell them how much poll tax it was going to cost them. ... We got that pretty well weeded out now. Not many come around. I don’t think more than one come in the last two years.

In Lee County the probate office claims to do its best to keep a record of all deaths, removals, transfers, insanity commitments, and so on, to furnish the registrars when they purge the voting list. Yet the probate office does not strike people from

the roll without the consent of the registrar. The probate judge for the county declares: “I know a dozen people on that list right now who are dead, but it’s against the law for us to remove them without the board’s permission.”

In Macon County, Alabama, the registrars fill out the applications themselves on the excuse that “it saves time.” The whole blank is filled out and the people are required to produce one witness in person. Only infrequently, however, does any applicant bring in his own witness. No one is denied registration because of unemployment. If the applicant is unemployed, this is merely noted on the blank. In Jefferson County the chairman of the board of registrars is a full-time county employee and holds a position of some importance, for he has the power of appointment over a staff of from eight to ten clerks. Although appointed by the governor, his salary and the expenses of his office are met by the county. The office of the board of registrars handles all of the details of registration, makes up the poll tax list, records the poll tax payments, fixes the beat line, and decides all questions concerning the voting eligibility of citizens of the county. In most Alabama counties, this last function is performed by the probate judge. The salary of the chairman in Jefferson County is five thousand dollars a year, and the office is regarded as an important political plum. The incumbent in the office was the campaign man-

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 229 ager for Governor Frank Dixon in his first election contest and was his manager for Jefferson County in the last election. He is a professional politician and spends much of his time in directing campaigns of candidates in the county races.

The chairman of the board estimates that there are from twenty to twenty-five thousand poll tax payers in Jefferson

County, but neither he nor the tax collector keeps a tabulation, since both of these officials work on a salary rather than a fee basis. The number of those paying or of those on the qualified list is not kept. It is estimated that there are from sixty to sixty-

five thousand certified voters. The registrar is supreme. He makes no reports to the probate judge and his work is not checked.

The board of registrars sits for registration during all of the periods required by law and for certain special periods; every “off” year between October 1 and January 1 it spends seventyfive days (instead of the usual thirty days) in traveling about the beats and registering people. A full day is usually spent at each precinct. A relatively small group of people is registered on these rounds, but those who are registered in this way would

find it difficult to come to the courthouse for registration, because some of the beats are as far as thirty-five miles away. The board chairman points out that “it is a service to a small group of people.” In every even year beginning on the fourth Monday in January, the board devotes ten days to purging the voter list. In even years, also, there are six ten-day periods of registration

beginning the second Monday in April, the fourth Monday in June, the fourth Monday in July, and the first Monday in August, October, and December. In odd years, in addition to the seventy-

five day registration period, there are forty extra days—falling

in ten-day periods beginning the first Monday in February, April, June, and August. During the country round, or when there is no special registration rush, the registrars generally fill out blanks for people

as the applicants answer the questions. On those days when there is a large number of applicants, the people fill out their own blanks and the board checks on them later. An effort is made to examine every new voter personally, though on rush days this is impossible. The test of the applicant’s ability to read and write is seldom administered as such. If a person does not

show sufficient intelligence in answering questions, or if he cannot sign his name, then the board investigates him further. The chairman explained to Stoney: “We turn down people we

230 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

think can’t mark their own ballot.” Between 1 October 1939 and March 1940, the chairman estimates, half a dozen illiterates were registered, all of whom had property qualifications. There were undoubtedly a great many more registered who would find it impossible to write anything but their name. Purging the voting list in a city the size of Birmingham is a huge task. For the most part, the board members rely upon the health department death records and the insane. As they travel about, they go over the voting list with old residents. In the words of the chairman of the board: “We purge people here in the office every day. We get letters asking that their registration be changed to another county or state. .. . Thousands of voters are on the list who no longer live in Jefferson County or who are dead, but we can’t strike their names off unless we have some kind of proof.” The registrar admitted personal knowledge of well over one hundred names that should come off the list and admitted that only a new registration could clean up this situation. But this new registration cannot be arranged, because the people who reregistered in 1901 were promised that they would never have to register again. People who registered under the grandfather clause are carried on the rolls. Very few voters have been purged for crime. During the last purging none was purged for this reason because the clerk of the court failed to send the dockets down.

The board chairman in Birmingham thinks that the voting lists will be clean by 1942. The board struck the names of over 2,000 dead people from the rolls at the last purge. Some of these people had been dead for as long as twenty-five years. Purging of the dead from the lists is performed daily and newspaper accounts are checked. Many names of dead people were discovered on the lists when 27,000 postcards were recently sent out notifying people that their precincts had been changed. Relatives phoned in or otherwise notified the board of many deaths. No persons are indicted for making false statements on their applications. The registrar takes their word unless he suspects that they are not telling the truth. He merely questions them and, if he is still suspicious, requires them to produce evidence and a witness. The registrar points out that a great many people and “especially the Italians” lie about the time spent in the state.

This is done in order to get out of paying the poll tax for back

periods. The registrar feels that there is nothing to be done about this except to take the applicant’s oath. Sometimes the

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 231 applicants trip themselves up in answering the questions. When they do so they are registered anyway, although they are cau-

tioned about the danger involved in such acts. Unemployed people are registered without question. In fact, “unemployed” is often put in the blank left for statement of occupation. A great many people who have just reached twenty-one, the voting age, register if their birthdays come after the poll tax period, because in this way they get a free vote. Anyone refused registration by the board may appeal to the circuit court without

cost to himself. The chairman of the Jefferson County board states that he always explains this to each applicant who is re-

jected. Yet, to his knowledge, no board has ever had its decisions reversed by the court. Several cases have been appealed, but the

board had registered the people before the cases came to trial. At the time of Stoney’s interview, the cases of eight Negroes— who had been denied registration by the previous board—were on file.

Since Jefferson is the governor’s home county, he has been

given the right to appoint all three members of the board of registrars. Besides the professional politician who serves as chairman, a well-known Presbyterian pastor and a prominent lawyer—both men of considerable reputation in Birmingham —serve at the regular compensation of five dollars per day. It is amazing that there is no direct supervision of this registration work by the state. The chairman of the board is merely required

to send in a typed list of all people registered, with their precincts indicated. The attorney general sends to the registrars rulings on any questions which cause them difficulty. They are also furnished copies of all decisions made for other boards and copies of any changes in statutes or new statutes. Other than this, the board relies upon the state code for its instructions. In Burke County, Georgia, all people registering are required to sign the registration book in person and in their own hand. If the person is white and illiterate, the tax commissioner reads the oath to him and the person who brings him in signs for the applicant. Illiterates, it seems, are always “brought in by some politician.”

The tax collector of Johnson County, Georgia, does not demand that all persons who register come in to sign the registration book in person. A sister or a mother or a candidate can do this for them. The tax collector explains that this does not make a great deal of difference since he has to make the signature for so many of the applicants anyway. The tax collector has never

232, THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

used the literacy or character tests, and he adds: “To tell you the

truth, the qualifications for a voter have got down pretty low in this country. Party politics is mighty crooked in this county. There’s lots of trading and trafficking.” One of the registrars says that no one is ever purged from the voting list for crime. Several

whose names are on the current list are either in jail or out on parole. Although the members of the board of registrars have signed

their names to it, the current registration roll for Johnson County is admittedly not accurate. None of the tax defaulters for one year back, and in some cases for two years back, has been struck from the list. The reason for this is said to be the

fact that the ordinary, the tax collector, and the clerk were supposed to make up a list of the tax defaulters and file it with the registrars by April 20, so that the latter could have a chance to notify defaulters, who then would have fifteen days in which

to appear and get paid up. There are two new members of the board of registrars—one of them a young lady—and they did not know anything about their duties until the chairman, who has served for many years, instructed them after May 5 “to get busy.” Then the judge and the solicitor, both of whom are interested in the district-wide race this coming fall, told them that they could not legally strike these defaulters because they had not been notified. But at least one member of the board— the young woman—considers this to have been a frame-up, because, she contends, all five people involved knew about the law,

including the chairman of her board. She feels that they deliberately let matters slip because the same thing had occurred in a neighboring county, and those in Johnson County needed to have an enrollment equally as large in order to have any chance in the district elections. Thus, in Johnson County, they took the rolls drawn up for the county primary of November 1939, for which 1938 taxes had to be paid to vote, added to these all those who had registered since the county primary, whether or not they had paid the tax, and then the solicitor added a few names that did not appear on the registration books. In Macon County the tax collector registers all of the people on the books. Unlike some other counties in Georgia, the regis-

trants are all required to come into the registrar’s office and sign the book. All except women registering for the first time and people just becoming twenty-one are required to take the oath. The county tax collector expressed shock at the suggestion

that people in other counties are registered without having to

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 233 make a personal appearance, exclaiming: “Good Lord! If it was that way, I could put a couple of hundred people’s names down on the books myself, pay up their poll taxes, and haul them in and get elected to anything I wanted to.” In Dougherty County the secretary to the tax collector does

most of the registering. It is said that all applicants are required to come in person and sign the register. If they cannot sign for themselves, the tax collector or his secretary signs for them, and it is admitted that this practice is quite common. The literacy, character, and educational tests are never employed, and it is claimed that “no difference” is made in the treatment of Negroes and whites. Few Negroes apply for registration, however, and those few come “when some president of one of their

organizations gets after them.” It is estimated that there are over five hundred Negro names on the registration books in default on poll tax payments. Voting lists are made up separately in Dougherty County for the county primary, the state primary, and the general election. The county primary comes before the closing date for qualification for the state primary. Few people qualify after this date, however. The Negro list is added for the general election. Everyone who registers in Ware County is required to come in and sign the book in person, says the tax collector, “unless it’s a wife, or a sister, or somebody like that,” or a person registering for another person of close kin “if I know them.” The literacy and character tests are never used. In McIntosh County the tax collector requires all people registering to appear in person and sign the registration book. If the registrants cannot sign for themselves, the tax collector does so for them in their presence. It is claimed that there is no difference in treatment between whites and Negroes in this respect. In Chatham County it is said that every person registered is required to sign the registration book in person, the exception being that when a married couple is transferring from one dis-

trict in a city to another, the husband or wife may sign again for the other. There must be an original signature, however. Women are required to reregister when they change their names. The tax collector admits that he does register people who cannot read and write. He reads the oaths to them and then signs for them. He has had to refuse, he says, only about fifteen persons during his term in office. These were people who could not give satisfactory answers about their age, place of residence,

time in the state, and so forth, and he alleges that this is the

234 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

only kind of test given anyone. He states that there has been only one appeal to the board, “and that didn’t get to first base.” This

was the case of a man who had not been in the state long enough. In Greene County people need not come into the registration office to sign the books and be registered as voters. Most voters

are registered by candidates or their workers who supply the names and approximate ages. No proof is required of age, time of residence in the county, literacy, or character. Payment of poll tax is the full requirement. The tax collector of the county declares that he has never administered any of the tests provided and claims to register Negroes just as he does whites. He says that, in fact, he encourages Negroes to register so that he can get the poll tax. He estimates that about thirty-five Negroes are qualified voters. In 1938 about forty Negroes were designated on the voting list. Of this number, only about fifteen are said to vote. Some of them are too old to pay the poll tax. During

the registration year 1939-40, the tax collector has registered six Negroes, all of whom are property owners and appeared in person. The registration in the spring of 1940 was the largest in the history of Greene County. Over three thousand dollars in back taxes were collected, and “two thirds of this was paid by the candidates.” It is admitted in Greene County that the registration lists are cluttered with many “duds.” Many names noted for purging by the justices of the peace had to be left on the lists because the people were still paying taxes in Greene County while living elsewhere; were living in another county and paying poll taxes there, but had not asked for a transfer; were over tax age; or were dead, but no definite proof of death could be gotten. A member of the board of registrars is satisfied that many of these people who have moved to adjoining counties have been registered there without getting a transfer. With primaries coming at different times, voting in two or more counties is not difficult.

The three members of the board of registrars of Greene County are paid three dollars a day and work as long as necessary. This bill is met by the county. During the past year they worked a total of nine days. The following appears at the top of a page in the registration books in Georgia: I do swear, or affirm that I am a citizen of the United States;

that I am 21 years of age, or will be on the___ Ss of

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 235 of this calendar year; that I have resided in this State for one year, and in this county for six months immediately preceding the date of this oath, or will have so resided on the ______

of __ of this calendar year; that I have paid all taxes which, since the adoption of the Constitution of 1877, have been required of me, except taxes for this year; that I possess the qualification of an elector, required by the Constitutional Amendment adopted in 1908 and that I am not disqualified from voting by reason of any offense committed against the laws of the State. I further swear, or affirm that I reside in the ________ District G.M., or in the ______. Ward in the City

of sat no. on street. My age is 3 my occupation ;

Those entitled to permanent registration under the law as amended on 10 August 1913, include: All persons who have honorably served in the land or naval

forces of the United States in the Revolutionary War or in the War of 1812, or in the War with Mexico, or in any War with the Indians, or in the War between the States, or in the War with Spain, or who honorably served in the land or naval forces of the Confederate States, or of the State of Georgia in the War between the States; or

All persons lawfully descended from those embraced in the classes enumerated in the subdivision next above; or All persons who are of good character and understand the duties and obligations of citizenship under a republican form of government; or All persons who can correctly read in the English language any paragraph of the Constitution of the United States or of this State and correctly write the same in the English language when read to them by any one of the registrars, and all persons who solely because of physical disability are unable to comply with the above requirements, but can understand and give a reasonable interpretation of any paraeraph of the Constitution of the United States or of this State that may be read to them by any one of the registrars; or Any person who is the owner in good faith in his own right of at least forty acres of land situated in this State, upon which he resides, or is the owner in good faith in his own right of property situated in this State and assessed for taxation at the value of $500.00.

236 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Under all of this are blanks for the following: date registered,

name, age, white or colored, soldier, descendant of soldier,

. good character and knowledge of duties of citizenship, education, owner forty acres of land or five hundred dollars personal property, post office, occupation, transfer to, and transfer from. Those not entitled to register in Georgia are the following: Those who shall have been convicted in any court of competent jurisdiction of treason against the State or embezzle-

ment of public funds, malfeasance in office, bribery or larceny, or any crime involving moral turpitude, punishable

by the laws of this State with imprisonment in the penitentiary, unless such persons shall have been pardoned. Idiots and insane persons. No tax-collector shall allow any person to sign his name in the voters’ book unless he is satisfied, at the time, that the

taxes due by said voter are paid, and that he is otherwise qualified.

The tax collector in Hall County, Georgia, who assumed office

in 1930, does not recall ever having refused to register a white person. He explains that he started to do so at one time when a man brought in the name of his brother who was known to the tax collector to be half crazy. He did not refuse registration, however, because he was afraid that the brother would get angry if he told “this on him right here in front of everybody.” The man never voted, as he died before the next election. Although there is a board of registrars in Hall County, the tax collector does practically all of the registering and most of the rest of the work. The board is made up of an old man who is the Republican member, a seventy-odd-year-old school teacher, and aretired merchant. The members of the board are appointed

by the judge of the superior court at the suggestion of the county officers. The Republicans have no chance to nominate their representative on the board. The Republican member of

the board in Hall County has served for fourteen years and never fails to vote in the Democratic primary. In Hall County the principal duty of the board of registrars is purging the voting list. This is done before each election, be-

ginning the day after the closing date set for registration and tax payment. From the voting lists are taken the names of all of those who are delinquent in taxes. This is done by the collector of taxes. The dead are also struck from the list, and these names are obtained from the justices of the peace who hold the

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 237 elections in the rural districts. No certificates from the health department are checked, however. Those who have moved out of the county are taken off the list only after a transfer is received or no tax payment is shown—or when somebody is confident they are dead. The county ordinary sends a list of those who are insane, and the clerk of the court sends a list of those convicted of crimes. Not more than half a dozen are struck from the list for criminal conviction at each purging. Only those who have committed felonies are removed. Whenever possible, people whose names are struck from the list are notified by mail. Those who have moved from the county must give permission

before the registrars can strike their names from the list. People may register at any time merely by coming into the

, office of the tax collector or the registrar and signing the book. In the case of the county primary, the Democratic committee—

and, in other elections, the state law—fixes the last date on which people may register to vote in the election. Those who register after this date are put on the books but not placed on the voting list until the next time. There is a separate registration for city elections. Until recently the state law provided that

a person must pay all county and state taxes in order to vote. During the depression, however, this has been changed to allow persons to pay only poll taxes. It is not necessary to appear in person in order to register. In

| Hall County no tests are given. If applicants do appear in person, they may make a mark in the book and have someone else sign for them. Most people are registered by a candidate or by a brother, husband, other relative, or “friend.” Candidates often come into the registration office with long lists of names. Ages

are given only approximately. In former years, the registrars were provided with small slips containing a voter’s oath which the applicants had to sign. But this has been done away with since 1930. Now the voters’ names are recorded in the book as the people give them. While this is perhaps not legal, it seems to be the common practice all over the state. Anyone who moves into Hall County and wants to register is first required to get a transfer from the county of previous residence. This transfer is a regular form and on it is the statement that the person has paid all poll taxes due to date. Few tax collectors in Georgia who issue these transfers, however, bother to look up the record or to answer the question regarding the poll

tax. The reply of the applicant is usually accepted at its face value even though this blank remains unfilled. Thus, people

238 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

who have transferred their residence to Hall County may start voting by paying up all of the taxes owed since they moved into

that county. |

The tax collector in Putnam County requires all people to come in and register in person, except perhaps the wives or daughters of men who are registering, though he knows this is not legal. However, he takes the position that this is justified in a town as small as Eatonton. The literacy or character tests are never employed. The tax collector states further that he has signed the registration book himself for a number of men, knowing that they would be “embarrassed before people” in not being able to sign for themselves. “You see, a good citizen making a good living that can’t write hardly or read—a lot of people didn’t get a chance like you and me—you hate to make them feel bad.” The Greenville County, South Carolina, board of registrars sits to register on the first Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of each month. When the books opened in January of 1938, how-

ever, the board members stayed on duty full time for almost three months. According to the chairman of the county board, everyone must appear in person to get a registration certificate, and everyone is required to take the literacy test. The registrants are asked to read a short passage of the constitution, but the chairman states that she does not ask them to explain it because “there’s plenty I don’t understand about it myself.” Only a few applicants have been turned down. The chairman told Stoney that she does not try to get proof of

age or residence from the registrant. There is no way that this can be done, she explained, and she admits that many “get by.”

She cited one case which brought her into court. A school trustee’s election was being contested on the ground that one girl who voted—casting the deciding vote—was underage. It so happened that the girl registered with her mother. The chairman explained: “Her mother said she was 21, and gracious goodness, who am [ to argue with a woman about how old her own kid is?” Another time the chairman was taken to court in a trustee election contest. A man had applied for a duplicate receipt, then found his old one, and at that point “thought up the smart trick” of erasing his first name and putting in that of his wife. Registration certificates must be thirty days old to be good

for an election. The chairman of the board had to testify in court that the last name was in her handwriting and the first name was not.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 239 To vote in the Greenville city primary, one must enroll with a special enrollment commissioner who has no connection with the official city setup. He is employed by the city Democratic committee. To enroll for the primary, one must also show a registration certificate from the county and be on the poll tax list. To vote in the Greenville city general election, no literacy test is required. It is assumed that the registrant has stood such test when he presents the county registration certificate which is required. The registrant is also supposed to present a county tax receipt showing that the poll tax has been paid. No display of a voting certificate is required for voting in the primary. The primary and general elections are “completely separate.” They are kept this way, according to the secretary of the Greenville County Democratic committee, “so we can keep the Negro from

voting. We have no quarrel with the Negro. He has a right to vote in the general election if he wishes. We do not object to that.” The present chairman of the board of registrars in Pickens County, South Carolina, was appointed in 1938. She is a woman, and the other two members of the board are men. She states that

when people apply for registration, she makes them read and write or show tax receipts for three hundred dollars worth of property. She declares that she knows Pickens County and almost everyone in it, and “I know who to ask if they can read and who not to. Plenty of them have to say ‘no.’ ” When they do, she does not let them register, adding: “One has come in three times now.”

Until a recent state supreme court case invalidating the Democratic registration, the practice in Pickens County was for one person to bring in a bunch of names and get receipts for every-

one. Now the county registrar makes the applicants come in person. She does not require them to show their poll tax receipts, however. It is the poll holders who require this or who are supposed to, though, according to the registrar, they do not do so, except in trustee elections. These elections and the primary, the registrar says, are conducted decently, but the general elections are “a joke.” The town general elections in Pickens County are admittedly not very carefully handled. According to a former general election commissioner, the city clerk, together with a registrar, ordi-

narily writes out the town certificates and sends them around to people’s houses. The same is true of the city primary in Easley, where the former election commissioner lives. He de-

240 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

clares that before the last election they brought a certificate for

him, for his wife, and for his daughter—all written out and signed.

Registration for general elections in Sumter County, South Carolina, comes the first Monday in each month. If the demand is great enough, the board of registrars goes back on Tuesday and Wednesday. Early in 1938, when the new registration began, the board spent almost a month at this job. At this time the civic clubs were putting on a drive to get people to register and were receiving cooperation. The county paid the board members : extra for this. Although the legal hours are fixed, the board often |

sits later so that working people can come in and register. ,

The Sumter board does not require that people show their poll tax receipts to register, for, as the chairman of the board says, “that’s the business of the poll holders.” It is because the poll tax receipts are not required that so many people have signed up. The chairman admits that any white person who is twenty-one years old or over is registered without question. It is only once in a great while, when the board members are suspicious, that they try to check up on residence. Since the applicant is not required to do any writing in the official process

(all writing is done by the registrars, and the voter's signature is not required either on the stub or on the receipt), they “assume” that every white man can read and write. The enrollment book for one of the big ward clubs of Sumter is to be found at Dr. Lawson’s drugstore near the center of town. According to Dr. Lawson, the book was just brought there and left. This is the first time it has been put in his store. People may

come in and register any time the store is open; that is, from 7:00 A.M. until midnight. He will give the registrants curb service, but he will not allow the book to be taken any farther away from the store than that. These are the instructions the county chairman gave him when the book was brought around. No one looks after the book. It lies on the counter and people come in and sign. Dr. Lawson said that he thought it was all right for a husband to sign for a wife and the other members of his family, although he “wouldn’t want to let it go much further than that.” He makes no attempt to check up on ages, residences, and so on, though he knows almost everyone in the ward. This is left up to the committee on purge day. A member of the board of registrars of Saluda County stated quite frankly that he does not know very much about his work as registrar. He got the job as a favor from the state senator for

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 241 whom he had worked in the campaign. He merely does “what the clerk told me” was necessary when he took office. When the

new registration period started in January 1938, this member of the board and his colleagues spent several days in the courthouse renewing certificates. Now, the registrar goes in once a month to check up on things. Few people come in to register, and those who do can get their receipts from the clerk. He is not supposed to give them out to anyone except those who are called

for jury duty and who are in a hurry, but he does not bother about this. People in the county have registered very well, although most people have done so in order to be on the jury. Women register because they come along with their husbands. With reference to the Negro registration, he added: “We had a half a dozen niggers to come in.” They were required to read a portion of the constitution and to write it out, and to answer certain question about it which the clerk gave to the registrars. None of the Negroes was turned down, which the registrar thought due to the fact that the Negro community had sent “the best ones in there first. When they found out what they had to do, they went out and told the rest,” so that now Negroes “don’t come in unless they can pass.” It is frankly admitted, however, that white people are never tested by the registrar because “we was never asked to.” The clerk of the county court, when asked if the poll officials do not ask to see the registration certificates in the election, exclaimed: “I’d hate to be a manager and ask one of these farmers for his registration certificate or his poll tax receipt. Boy! You'd get run out of the place. People in this county—they won’t stand for red tape in any form.” People in the county register, not in

order to vote in the general election, but so they can vote for school trustees and be drawn on the jury. Because of a state supreme court decision in 1939, a bit more care has been used in writing up the certificates. Formerly, an executive committeeman would hand in a bunch of names, and receipts would be written out for him to take back to his neighbors. Often, only one of the registrars would sign them, or the clerk of court would write them up himself. Now, however, efforts are made to get people to apply in person. They need not wait for the first Monday in each month, though. The clerk has the board sign two or three dozen receipts ahead of time, and he fills them in when people apply. This is done when people are called on jury and either cannot sign their old receipts or have ones that are not signed by all three registrars.

242, THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

In Beaufort County, South Carolina, there are twelve districts or precincts for primary elections and nine for general elections.

The latter are set by state statutes. The former are set by the county Democratic committee. In Beaufort County the primary election districts conform to township lines as much as possible. There are definite boundaries so that a voter has no choice as to where he will vote. In the primary he must always vote with the Democratic club in the district where he lives. The district Dem-

ocratic clubs do all enrolling and this is completely separate from registration. Each of these Democratic clubs meets on the fourth Saturday in April of election years to “reorganize.” Anyone who has lived within the district for sixty days and who is a white person at least twenty-one years of age may attend and vote. The president of the club appoints an enrollment commit-

tee of three members whose duty it is to see that all eligible voters in the community put their names in this book. The book is furnished by the state Democratic executive committee—a large ledger with pages alphabetically tabbed, each page containing spaces for the date (seldom filled), signature of voter (if the voter cannot write, a place for his mark and for the signature of the person signing for him is provided ), age, occupation, and address. Enrollment books are open for six or seven weeks. The time is fixed by the state Democratic executive committee. The local newspapers always give two weeks’ notice of

the opening date and run large notices every week during the period telling where the voters may find the books, etc. None of the club officers in Beaufort is paid. Generally one member of the enrollment committee is a merchant, and the book is left in his store. Technically, each person is required to sign the book in person, though in actual practice this is not done. Three days after the closing date, all enrollment books are brought into the courthouse by the Democratic executive committeeman. Here the committee divides itself into four committees, covering the four parts of the county, which go over the books—striking out duplications; transferring people who they find have signed the wrong book; and considering protests, though protests are seldom made. After the list is purged, additions are made. Committeemen from each district hand in names, and a motion is usually made that a request be handed to the circuit judge to include these names on the qualified list of enrolled voters. In 1938 sixty-six names were added in this way, but this practice is not followed in most South Carolina counties. These additions were apparently people who had

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 243 failed to sign the books and had asked the executive committeemen to include them. According to the rules, they are supposed to be ill, away from home, or to have some other good excuse. There should be fewer of these during the current year, for the state committee has arranged an absentee blank for enrollment. At each box there are two or three managers and a clerk who are selected by the executive committeemen and approved by the chairman of the executive committee. There is no provision for giving candidates representation on this board. Each candidate is allowed one watcher at each box and one or more watch-

ers at the ballot countings. All returns are counted in public. In the primary, state and county ballot boxes are set side by side. One is painted white and the other yellow. The correspond-

ing tickets are printed on white and yellow paper. Both boxes are supervised by the same election officials. A voter gives his name. It is located on a certified enrollment list previously typed

out in alphabetical order, which gives name, age, occupation, and address. The voter’s name is checked on this list and is written out by the clerk on a tally sheet. He is given two ballots—one

for the county and one for the state—and goes into the voting booth. It is claimed that the Australian ballot system is strictly enforced in Beaufort County. After the voter has voted, he folds his ballots and hands them to a manager, who tears off the numbered tabs at the top along the perforated lines, puts the ballot in the box himself (or has the voter do it ), and files the two tabs.

After the election, the votes are counted in the districts by the managers and clerks. Results are put on tally sheets; these are put in the boxes; they are locked and brought to the courthouse by the executive committeeman. If there are challenged votes, these go into special envelopes. Each is sealed up separately,

and there is no counting of them until they are passed upon by the executive committee when it sits to declare results. Absentee votes are secured by voters from their club secretaries. They are returned to him. He brings them sealed to the club, opens them in the presence of the managers and clerks, dumps them folded into the box, and mixes them up. In Beaufort County nothing is required of a voter in the primary except that his name appear on the certified copy of the enrollment list. No registration or poll tax receipts are required.

There is no attempt at supervision of the district clubs. The chairman of the Beaufort County Democratic committee affirms

emphatically that there are no Negro members of any district primary club in the county.

244 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Certificates of registration for voters are issued in Beaufort County to those applying on the first Monday in each month. No certificates are issued within thirty days prior to an election which is not a primary. All three registrars come together and write out these certificates as people come to the courthouse. The applicants must show their poll tax receipts for the previous year. It is claimed by the chairman of the county board

of registrars that the literacy or property tests are enforced “strictly. We do that to keep down the niggers. We have no trouble here with that. All talk you hear about niggers voting is in up-country. Down here we're seven to one, and we don't have any trouble. Colored people know it’s going to be settled in the primary and they don’t try to register. Theyre not inter-

ested in that.” The chairman admits, however, that he never asks a white man whether or not he can read and write. He does require all Negroes to read a section of the constitution and to write out a part of it, unless they have previously had a receipt,

in which case the Negro applicants are allowed a new receipt without test. After the certificates are issued, the names of voters are written into books in alphabetical order—one book for each general election district. These books are used for elections and are also the official lists from which jury lists are picked. This is why Negroes are identified. There is no place in the book for this identification, but in Beaufort County “col.” is written beside each Negro’s name. The state committee in South Carolina has recently ruled that

a new enrollment for the primary must be made every two years. Until 1938 there were primary enrollments every four years, with revisions and additions made each two years. Things

would get so confused in Beaufort County, however, that the chairman of the county Democratic committee often had to call for a new enrollment every two years anyway. Actually there is no qualification for voting in the Beaufort County primary except age and residence. Criminals are allowed to vote if they are not behind the bars. The town banker in Beaufort, jailed for embezzlement in 1926, came back after his term and ran for mayor. His citizenship had not been restored, but nothing was said about it. He was given a place on the Democratic primary ballot and received seventeen votes. According to an enrollment committeeman at Shelton, in Beaufort County, the Democratic primary enrollment book which is kept in his store does not require any of his attention.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 245 People sign up as they please. At the time of Stoney’s visit the book was “out,” as the executive committeeman was taking it around to people in the district, a practice that is customary in that district. The enrollment committeeman seldom attends his district club meeting and all the club does, he says, is hold the election. The elections are held in his store. The poll holders and

delegates to the convention are “about the same ones every time.”

An interview with a druggist who is a member of the local enrollment committee indicates the laxity with regard to registration for the primary in Beaufort. He explains that all he does is take the enrollment book when the chairman of the party brings it around, spread it out on his counter, and keep the pencil sharp. Most people come in and sign without ever seeing him. He has served for fifteen years or more—ever since they brought the books around and put them on the counter without asking him. He contends that the information in the books is accurate, except for the ages of women—most of whom put “21 plus.” The rules say that each person must sign in person, but in practice this is not required. One member of a family can sign for all the rest. Or, if “you know someone is sick or can’t come down, you can put his name on the book. I wouldn’t let just anybody do it. You know—if they’re responsible and I know them.” The druggist lets anyone register who is of proper age and has lived in the state for two years. He never asks them about the latter requirement unless he knows they have not. Then, if they have put down their names when he was not present, he does nothing about it, leaving it up to the committee to correct it. He recalls only two such cases in the past five years. To illustrate the informality of the enrollment in Beaufort County, a county representative related that a Negro minister had signed up without anyone knowing about it. He had just slipped in and put his name down in the book when no one was looking. The county representative comments: “We didn’t know it was a negro so we let it pass. He had the nerve to come in and

try to vote!” A former mayor of Beaufort was at the polls at the time. He went over and told the Negro “if he knew what was good for him, he better get out and stay out.” The man left. All matters pertaining to general elections in South Carolina

—municipal, state, or federal—are governed by statute. According to the state law, cities of a certain size must have elections every year. Those of a slightly larger size must have a gen-

eral election every two years. Larger cities must have general

246 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

elections every four years. To vote in these city elections, one must obtain a special city registration certificate—a new one for each general election. Requirements for obtaining this certificate are: (1) the presentation of a county registration certificate; (2) a poll tax receipt for the preceding year; (3) meeting all requirements for registering in the county; and (4) in addition, having resided in the city for four months and in the ward or district for sixty days. These certificates are issued by three “supervisors of registration” appointed by the mayor. They start working ninety days before the general election, and their books remain open for two months. Voters are supposed to dis-

play their certificates to vote. These supervisors are supposed to give representation to the different political parties or factions. The records in the office of the clerk of council of Charles-

ton show that there were 2,502 white people and 52 Negroes registered for the city general election of 1939. In Charleston the city general election is conducted by three election commissioners appointed by the governor. By a special act passed in 1877, the election must come on the second Tuesday in December. The three-man board of commissioners appoints three managers for each polling place “so that each political party shall be represented.” The general election means absolutely nothing in Charleston city politics. In the county, the general elections are conducted by a threeman board of commissioners appointed by the governor. These men, in turn, appoint the precinct election officials. Registration is handled by a three-member board of registrars appointed by the governor. All of these men receive a small fee, and the governor usually appoints whomever the state senator recommends. There is no attempt to give the minority party representation on any of these boards. Although the registration board for the general elections in Charleston must meet in its cffice once a month to list those who have registered and to accept all comers, anyone who wishes to

can get registered “almost any time of day or night” by seeing the chairman of the board at his drugstore on King Street. The colored registrants in the registration book for the general elections are plainly marked “col.” In the city of Charleston, on the basis of the registration from 1 January 1938 to 1 May 1940, there were 7,920 white persons and 362 Negroes on the books. In the county districts there were 4,302 whites and 200 Negroes. Thus the totals for the county are 12,222 whites and 562 Negroes eligible for the general elections.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 247 According to the secretary of the Charleston County Democratic committee and the chairman of the board of registrars, the enrollment system for Democratic primaries in the county operates as follows: the books are kept open from June 11 to July 23. Three days after this, the lists are compiled and published in the newspapers. Three days following the publication is the purge date. This is done by a subcommittee of the county executive committee. Any person who wishes to do so may appear and bring charges. In 1930, when candidates John P. Grace and Thomas Stoney were battling over the solicitorship and the state senatorship, several hundred names were purged. Many people lost their tempers and the old bitter factionalism rose up again. The “leaders” in each ward work hard to get their people to enroll and to come to club meetings. Now they are requiring that people sign the enrollment books for themselves. This is being done to avoid the accusations made in 1938 that there was padding of the rolls. This has reference to the Maybank-Manning gubernatorial campaign of 1938, in which Colonel Wyndham

Manning, the defeated candidate, charged that Burnet R. Maybank stole the election through padding the club rolls in Charleston.

A person has his choice of the Democratic clubs within his ward. When he enrolls, he takes an oath that he is not enrolled in any other clubs. Many duplications are found, however, when

the rolls are consolidated. People thus found are notified by registered mail to appear before the committee and are given their choice of clubs (that is, if they registered in two clubs in the same ward) or are put in the club where they reside (if they

registered in two clubs in separate wards). According to the chairman of the board of registrars in Charleston County, all except women are required to show either a poll tax receipt or a record of exemption for registration. Everyone must read the oath, and the chairman states that it is surprising “how many people in this town can’t read or write. I mean white people. They come in here well dressed, looking fine.” He says that he has turned down a good many white people as well as a good many Negroes on this count. He seldom applies the property qualification, for few of those who cannot read and write are able to show tax receipts on property valued at as much as three hundred dollars. There is no longer any poll tax payment required for registration in Louisiana, but the poll tax receipts for the two preceding

248 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

years (that is, for the present year and the one immediately preceding ) must be obtained in order for the person to be eligible for registration. For current registration, as an example, poll tax receipts can be obtained by anyone and without any qualification or payment. Once the poll tax receipts are obtained,

the applicant must appear at the registration office. The clerk then presents the applicant with a printed card. This card cannot be taken away from the office and the applicant must fill it in. If the applicant is illiterate, he must answer the questions, and the clerk will write them in. Then he must mark the card with his “X.” The answers to questions must be absolutely correct. Although the questions on the card appear very simple, there are many applicants who make mistakes.

| The registrars in New Orleans are appointed by the governor. The New Orleans office maintains a large staff of clerks—there

being one for each ward. In referring to the experiences of Negro applicants, one of the registrars said: “There are only a few niggers who know exactly when they were born or where they were born, or even where they were living.”* Answers to the questions on the application card are regarded as an elementary educational test. According to the law of Louisiana, if

the applicant fails to fill out the card accurately, the clerk is forbidden to explain his error to him. The applicant can return day after day to fill out new cards, but, says this registrar, he usually gets tired and quits trying. Cards which are incorrectly filled out by applicants are preserved in the office of the registrar until such time as the applicant is registered. The applicant has the privilege of appealing to the court when rejected at the registration office. The judge of the court to which the appeal is made can call for the incorrectly filled-in registration cards as evidence. Ordinarily, accord-

ing to a New Orleans registrar, the judge will merely ask the complaining applicant to fill in the card and will decide upon the matter then and there. The registrar takes the position that it is foolish to give votes to Negroes, because they only sell them. The Louisiana constitution also provides for the employment of a constitutional interpretation test as a means of qualifying.

Yet one of the present registrars in New Orleans states that, during the five years he has held office, he has never applied this constitutional understanding test to anyone—white or

black. ,

2. Gunnar Myrdal’s interview in New Orleans, 13 November 1939.

VOTER REGISTRATION IN THE SOUTH 249 The qualifications for voting registration in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, include a two-year residence in the state, one-year residence in the town, six months residence in the ward, three months residence in the precinct, and demonstration of ability to read and write. People who own property but who cannot read or write can have someone else register for them. Persons over sixty may register without signing the poll books. People must register at least thirty days prior to the date of the election. They must be white in order to vote in the Democratic primary. The registration books in Raleigh, North Carolina, are ill-kept

and undated, and many mysterious signs appear behind the names. These are the records, however, which determine who can and who cannot vote in Raleigh. In Mississippi the registration qualifications are as follows:

(1) residence in the state for two years; (2) residence in the county and city for one year; (3) American citizenship by birth or naturalization; (4) interpretation, upon request, of sections of the state constitution, or reading of the same; (95) reading the oath of office out of the registration book (this pledge is written in sentences which continue on the second page, an arrangement designed to confuse the applicant for registration ); and (6) payment of the poll tax two years prior to the election year in which the applicant offers to vote. The registration certificate or slip as employed in Hamilton

County, Tennessee, acts as a bar to free suffrage and is exploited by petty ward heelers. As the chairman of the Hamilton

County Democratic committee puts it, “little sniveling ward heelers” register people, collect their certificates, and then go to candidates and offer to vote them for so much. “Theyre noth-

ing in the world but leeches on the people running for office. They call a bunch of people in to register who don’t give a damn.

... They come to a candidate I know as much as $500 off a single man on a ticket. . . . Lots of times they sell to both sides... . If | was running for office, I wouldn’t give them a

dime.” It is said that often the ward heelers do not deliver the votes they promise. The practice is illegal, of course, both for the man who collects the registration certificate and for the

registrant who thus gives up his certificate.

The chairman of the Hamilton County board of elections explained:

We don’t vote heavy in Hamilton County. Nobody cares

much about elections. I don’t know anything about your

250 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

srandfather clause. It may be in effect in other counties in Tennessee, but in this county, and in the three other big city counties, we have a new registration every two years. Then, 20 days before election, we must hold what they call a “supplementary registration” for three days. That is when the bulk of people generally register. About 26,000 is top registration, I guess, and most elections don’t draw more than 15,000. Bond elections come to around seven or eight thousand... . You can vote in the city election, either a bond election or a regular election, if you own property there, even if you aren’t a resident. There are three judges at every registration place in Hamilton County. If these judges suspect a man ought not to be permitted to register, or if any of the three thinks so, they stamp “disagree” by his certificate. The voter is entitled to appeal to the county board of elections. This board hears the evidence, and if it feels that the appellant is qualified, it writes “void” under the “disagree.” Only one such vote has been contested in the last five years. Hamilton County has a new registration every

two years and has no form of permanent registration

whatsoever.

Voting registration qualifications in Knoxville, Tennessee, are the following: one year of residence in the state, six months’ residence in the county, supplemental registration twenty days before election, no educational qualifications. Election officers

or a private citizen may mark the ballot for a blind or feeble person. The payment of the one dollar poll tax for the year immediately preceding the election not later than sixty days prior to the day of said election is required. In order to vote, one must be a naturalized or a native citizen twenty-one years of age or over. Those over fifty are exempt from the poll tax payment, and those just becoming twenty-one do not have to pay it.® In order to discover the real nature of the Southern registration laws it is necessary to analyze their application to Negro

registrants rather than to white, since it is only with respect to Negroes that the laws are strictly administered by the local registration officials.* 3. James Jackson’s Knoxville, Tennessee, field notes, November 1939.

4. At this point in the Bunche memorandum, the author and his assistants included a careful summary of the registration and voting qualifications, as provided by state statute, in seventeen Southern and border states. See pp. 367—435 of the original typescript. —ED.

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Negro Registration

THE following materials provide some documentary evidence of Southern registration practices as they affect Negroes. The testimony here presented is primarily from two sources: (1) the practices and attitudes of Southern registration officials as gleaned from their own testimony to interviewers; and (2) the experiences of Southern Negroes in their efforts to register as related to interviewers. As a purely arbitrary classification, the material is presented by states and counties—this was the only classification that time would permit. It would have been much more desirable to break down and reintegrate these materials under topical categories, but this simply could not be tackled within our rigid time budget. The application blank for registration in Alabama constitutes a literacy test in itself. It is so worded that it would cause considerable difficulty for the average applicant if he were required to fill it out himself and without aid. It must be kept in mind, however, that in Alabama it is the general practice for registration officials to fill this blank out for white applicants, while Negro applicants, if they are fortunate enough to be given the

chance, are required to undertake it themselves and without assistance. The application can be rejected, and often is, if errors are made. In Birmingham, Alabama, until the past few years, prospec-

tive Negro registrants were required to have two white endorsers, though in some instances one such would be enough, providing he carried sufficient prestige. Depending on the reputation of the whites, telephone calls could be made or letters 293

254 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

given to satisfy this requirement. Actually, however, the only requirement of the Alabama law is that a registrant produce a person who can testify that he has been in the state two years, the

county twelve months, and the precinct or ward for three months. The two essential voting qualifications in Alabama are: (1) to read or write any passage of the constitution, providing the applicant has been working the greater part of the preceding twelve months; and (2) to own or pay taxes on three hundred dollars worth of real or personal property (or, if married, for either of the parties to own such property ). Ordinarily, in the case of white applicants, qualification can be gained under either of these provisions. When white applicants appear who cannot read or write, it is usually presumed that they own three hundred dollars worth of property. Negroes, however, are given a registration blank to fill out and are told: “You will hear from us—you will get a letter or card, requesting you to come in and meet the board”—-but nothing more is ever heard from the board. In some cases, however, a few cards are actually sent out, and the Negroes come before the board and are asked such questions as: “Are you a Communist?” “Do you own property?” “Why do you want to

| register to vote?” “Do you belong to that radical Negro organization?” (meaning the NAACP). On other occasions, a minor mistake in filling out the card will be pointed out, or the individual may be asked to name certain officers of the state or the members of the President’s cabinet, and so on.! But the laws of Alabama make it easy to appeal from the decision of the registrar and to have one’s voting qualifications determined by a jury. No bond is necessary, nor any other secur-

ity for court costs. The judge can instruct the jury only as to qualifications fixed by law. Mandamus proceedings can be instituted free. Arthur D. Shores, a young Negro lawyer, has been actively engaged in a fight to break down the barriers against Negro suffrage in Birmingham. On 15 June 1939, Shores filed six petitions for mandamus on behalf of Negroes who had been refused registration. There is, however, a catch in the Alabama law, in that if the appellant has not been refused formally by 1. Interview with Arthur D. Shores, Birmingham, Alabama, 18 November 1939. The interviewer is not identified in the Bunche memorandum. Unless otherwise indicated, the quoted passages in this chapter are teen trom the notes of field interviews conducted by George Stoney in

NEGRO REGISTRATION 255 the board, he cannot come to the court and say he has been refused. The registration board is permitted thirty days to give formal notice. If the appellant appeals before this period is up, refusal cannot be proven, but if he appeals after the period is up, the appeal is too late. In this case, the judge arbitrarily denied the six mandamus petitions. Then Shores brought proceed-

ings under the state statute providing for appeal. Before the case could be heard, however, all six of the petitioners were registered, and it became impossible to find one who had been denied registration.

The Birmingham Post of 16 June 1939, carried an article entitled “Judge Bars Action on Negro Votes,” which described as “almost without precedent” the action of circuit judge S. Russell McElroy in refusing to issue a mandamus writ commanding members of the board of registrars to show cause why they had

refused to allow six Negro citizens to register as voters. The judge would not comment on his decision. Petitions for the writ set out that “white citizens are registered forthwith, while the petitioners have been refused registration because of their race.”

Named as defendants in the documents were Sam Hawkins,

: Lucy McCall, and A. M. Romeo, members of the registration board. Quite significantly, the Birmingham News of 14 July 1939 carried an article which indicates that, in spite of Judge McElroy’s adverse decision, the appeal to the courts was not without effect. The News article stated that the names of several Negroes, including the plaintiffs in the mandamus suit, had been added to the Jefferson County registration lists recently. But Sam Hawkins, chairman of the board of registrars, denied that the litigation was responsible for the action. “As I recall,” Hawkins was quoted as saying, “these Negroes applied Just about the time our registration period closed for June. There was no refusal on the part of the Board to accept the registrations—it simply was delayed because of the time required to check on the qualifications of the applicants.” In a letter to United States Attorney General Frank Murphy on 7 August 1939, Arthur Shores explained what happened: As Chairman of the legal redress committee of the Birmingham Branch of the NAACP, I am writing to acquaint you with a matter affecting the denial of certain civil liberties of Negroes and to solicit your help therein. During the last period held for the registration of qualified electors in this County (Jefferson ) there was practiced gross

296 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

; discrimination, and arbitrary refusal of Negroes, until a petition was filed in the court to compel registration. After this petition was filed all petitioners were registered. As a result

of this court action several school teachers were called in by their superintendent and requested to withdraw their petitions or be dismissed. There have been attacks made upon me

both personal and from the standpoint of employment in order to curb my activities in the courts regarding the civil rights of Negroes. The registration books will open again here on the 9th of August through and including the 17th, and we are anticipat-

ing further movements on the part of certain reactionaries to curb the Negroes’ efforts to register and vote; hence we are asking you if you will kindly have someone from your department to be on hand as a casual observer to the doings at the register’s [sic] office so we may be guided in bringing whatever action necessary to protect these fundamental rights. The Attorney General’s office requested Shores to present “the

facts and circumstances surrounding the situation” to the United States attorney in Birmingham. The following is a copy of a petition to the Alabama courts filed in 1940 by attorney Shores on behalf of a Negro who was

denied registration by the board of registrars of Jefferson County.

Your petitioner, William Boswell, respectfully represents unto your Honor as fotlows:

1. That he is a bona fide resident citizen of Jefferson County, Alabama, and is over twenty-one years of age.

2. That he is a citizen of the United States, has resided in the State of Alabama for more than two years, in the County of Jefferson for more than twelve months and in the 9th Precinct of Jefferson County, Alabama for more than three months immediately next preceding the filing

, of his application for registration on the 31st day of January, 1940.

3. That he is able to read and write any article of the Con-

stitution of the United States in the English language and that he has been regularly employed for the greater part of the twelve months next preceding the time he offered to register.

4. That he has never been adjudged guilty of a felony or

NEGRO REGISTRATION 257 any other crime, that your petitioner further avers that he is

not an idiot or insane. Petitioner further alleges that by reason of the allegations hereinbefore made, he was in all particulars on the 31st of January, 1940 a duly qualified elector of the said State of Alabama according to the laws of

the State and as such was entitled to be registered as an elector. Oo. Your petitioner further shows that under the provisions

of the laws of the State of Alabama, the Board of Registrars, duly appointed and qualified to register qualified electors and composed of Rufus Bethea, Sterling J. Foster and Herman A.

Whisenett, held sessions at the court house of said county for the purpose of registering all applicants who were duly qualified, and that during the session and on the 31st day of January, 1940 when the said board was in session as provided by the laws of the State of Alabama, your petitioner made proper legal application to the said Board to register as an elector. That the said Board during such registration period and on the 31st day of January, 1940 declined and refused to register your petitioner. 6. Petitioner further states that during such registration period the said Board of Registrars has unlawfully combined, confederated and conspired together, and have formulated and devised various schemes and plots whereby they have prevented and still prevent the Negro residents of Jefferson County, including your petitioner from being registered; and petitioner further states that as a result of said conspiracy, it has become the general, habitual and systematic practice of the said Board of Registrars, these respondents and their predecessors in office, to refuse to register Negro residents and citizens of Jefferson County, Alabama including your petitioner, and to deprive them of their rights of suffrage solely on account of race, color and previous condition of servitude.

7. That as a part and parcel of the said conspiracy of the aforesaid Board of Registrars and in furtherance thereof, the said Board of Registrars invented, devised and set in motion and operation various schemes, tricks and artifices and have used every subterfuge to prevent the registration of Negroes and to deprive them of their fundamental and constitutional

right of suffrage, to wit: said Board of Registrars would conduct examination of Negro applicants including your petitioner, behind closed doors, said examination consisting

258 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO; A SURVEY

of extraneous and irrelevant questions not pertaining to the qualifications of an elector. That even after admitted satisfactory answers to such questions the said Board would arbitrarily refuse to register Negro applicants, including your petitioner.

8. Further, that said Board of Registrars in its refusal to register your petitioner was acting under color of custom and

usage in said Jefferson County and State of Alabama, that such refusal to register your petitioner is contrary to the provisions of the Constitution of the State of Alabama and violates the rights of your petitioner under the Constitution of the United States and the 14th and 15th amendments thereto and the laws of the United States enacted pursuant thereto. 9. Petitioner appeals from the decision of the Board of Registrars in denying him registration, under section 384 of the Code of Alabama of 1928, that his qualifications to register may be determined by a jury. PREMISES CONSIDERED your petitioner prays that this Court will allow his appeal, and that the question of his right to register as a qualified elector of the State of Alabama be adjudicated, and for such other and further relief your Honor may think proper. As a result of a voting drive by Negro civic organizations in Birmingham in the spring and summer of 1939, several hundred Negroes (probably the largest number since the disfran-

chising constitution of 1901 was adopted) presented themselves at the courthouse as applicants for registration in August and September. The men and women were given blanks to fill out in the usual manner, but instead of receiving their registra-

tion certificates they were told that they would receive some word from the board of registrars by mail. Dozens of them later received cards asking them to report again before the board at a specified period. Arriving at the courthouse, the applicants were ushered into a private room open only to the three members of the board and were questioned closely from ten to twenty-six minutes. During one entire session of the board, no Negro applicant was certified, although the applicants were all literate, none had prison records, and some were property owners and high school graduates (one school principal was included). On this particular day only two members of the board were present. Some records of what occurred are here presented.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 259 J. C. Gandy, a steel worker, literate and active in civic organizations, was asked the following questions: “How many branches are there in the government?” “Name them.” “Who is the head of the government?” “How many different types of courts are there in the state?” In answer to this question, Gandy answered: “The Fourteenth Amendment granted me my right to become a citizen and voter.” No comment was made on this

answer. He was asked what schools he had attended and whether or not civics had been taught in these schools. Finally, he was told that he was disqualified under Section 382 of the code of Alabama (1923). In answer to his remonstrance, he was

told that he could either come back the following January or appeal to the courts. He could have a jury hearing, the registrars

informed him, without cost; then, if he wished to appeal that decision, he could go to the circuit court, the next higher court, and the supreme court. Gandy still asked whether he had answered the questions to their satisfaction. The questions, the board said, were correct except for one. “We have no prejudice against you,” one board member added. “But we won't pass you this morning. Come back when the books open in January.” On

coming out, Gandy announced his determination to try again. “They haven’t turned one rock so far as discouraging me,” he declared. “They’ve just made me more determined.” Oscar Roberts, a literate steel worker and active in union and civic work, was admitted and questioned as follows: Where had he attended school? To what grade had he gone? Had he studied

civics? He was asked whether he owned forty acres of land; when the answer was given in the affirmative, he was told to show his last tax payment receipts on the property. What sort of government do we have in this country? Is it a dictatorship or a democracy? Roberts answered, “It is supposed to be a democracy. He was given a copy of the United States constitution

and asked to explain the section referring to the election of Senators and Representatives. He read the section, then explained to the board, “When I came to Alabama, I didn’t come as a law student. I came as a worker.” He was asked about the procedure followed when a suspected criminal is arrested and a jury trial must be held. Finally, he was told that he was disqualified by the board. When he asked upon what grounds, a member read from the Alabama constitution the section giving

the board of registrars power to reject applicants. He was further told that he could come back in January or exercise his right of appeal to the courts.

260 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

J. Peterson, a miner, was admitted and held briefly. He was first asked what references he had to show the board that he should be registered. He asked what was meant. The question was repeated in the same manner. Peterson proceeded to show that he was a property owner. Asked to give proof of this, he produced his tax receipts. At the end, Section 384 of the code was read to him and he was dismissed without being certified.? In 1936 a Birmingham Negro named Hosea Hudson attempted to register. He applied at the courthouse with a group of three Negroes. A few whites were present at the time. He was given a registration blank to fill out, was relegated to a seat some distance away, and was given no assistance in answering the questions. When the blank was completed and handed in, he was asked to stand in back of the room and not to help any of the other colored men who had come with him. Meanwhile, the whites in the room were assisted by members of the registration board, who filled in their questionnaires for them and immediately gave them registration certificates, indicating that they were accepted by the board as voters. Hudson was told

to go home and that his certificate would come through the mails. Knowing from past experience that he would never hear

from the board, he immediately invited an attorney to file a petition to make the registrars tell in court why he was not registered. The judge refused to consider the case. The certificate was subsequently mailed after the case had been filed. “Have you voted since?” “No,” he replied, “I haven’t been able to pay my back poll tax.” The tax in his case amounts to twentyfour dollars. Marion E. Jackson, a native of Georgia, has lived in Birmingham twenty-one years. He is a young man who recently received a bachelor’s degree from Morehouse College. At present he is employed at the Birmingham World as an associate editor. He is a member of a social club of young men, of the NAACP, and of the Jefferson County Young Negro Democratic Club. He describes his attempts to register in Birmingham:

I went up to the office of the board of registrars to vote. When I went there, they handed me an application blank. I filled out this with all of the answers properly replied to. It was then turned in to the desk clerk. A few days later I received a card to appear before the board of registrars of Jef2. These Birmingham accounts are taken from Edward Strong’s field notes, May 1940.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 261 ferson County. I responded to this card and found six or seven oiher Negroes waiting in an anteroom on the fourth floor of the courthouse. This was not the office of the board of registrars; it was a special room that they had selected for this meeting. I was the last one to arrive and I had an opportunity of questioning the folk going in and those coming out. Each person told me that the first question was to name all of the Bill of Rights. After they had explained this, they were given a portion of the Constitution to be read. Then the mem-

bers of the Board told each one to turn his face out of the window while they talked. After they came out of this conference, they brought the people back and read to them some statute on the registration book and then stated that they were not qualified to vote but that they could contest the decision of the registration board in court. , I majored in political science and American history. So, when the board asked me to name the three divisions of the government, | gave them to them. .. . Then they asked me to name some of the powers of the President. I told them he had the power of ratification [sic], appointing, confirming, and so on. Then I told them that the House of Representatives had the power of appropriation and to pass laws. They then told me, “Yes, you are doing pretty.” One fellow then wanted to know if I owned any property. He then asked me if I had $100.00 worth of clothing. They concluded by asking me to

read a portion of the Constitution of the United States. I read a portion . . . and then they asked me to turn my back and look out of the window. When I looked around, they told

me that the board had not seen fit to pass me, but that I

could contest the action of the board in the Alabama courts. When the next registration period began, I registered again and they told me to go out of the door and go down the hall

where the board was sitting. Incidentally, this was on the same floor with the office in which you make out application

blanks. This was the last day the board was sitting during that period and there was a large number of colored and white people waiting in line to see the board. At this time, I was asked the identical questions as asked on the previous occasion. They told me that before they read the Alabama law

whether there was anything I wanted to say for myself. My answer was yes, and that I desired to read a portion of the

on the power of the registration board—they asked me Constitution to them out of a history book which I had car-

262 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

ried along. I read five pages of the American Constitution. This took about thirty minutes. In the meanwhile, the line in the hall had increased to about 100 people. The chairman of the board asked me if I had not read enough, so I asked him had the law prescribed a law which said a person might not talk in his own favor. The answer was no, and I continued

to read. The chairman of the board stopped me again. He told me that if I stopped a few minutes, they would take another vote of application. I stopped and turned my back to the window as I had done on a previous occasion. They had about a ten minute discussion; then the chairman of the board told me that I had passed the examination of the board, and he wrote on a slip of paper a three and some dashes, indicating that I was to pay poll tax for three years back.

Another Birmingham Negro, who has been rejected by the registrars three times, relates: I was at the courthouse filling out my blank to register to vote, and my real estate agent came in and asked me, “Moss,

can I help you any?” The man in charge told me that that was against the law. I have been up there three times and had never received my registration certificate. I think they let so many by at a time, and should you be in the number you just get by. I would have been glad to pay my back poll tax, but I’ve never heard from them.

The following is an extract from a letter written by a group of young Negro miners who attempted to register in the small mining community where they worked. No Negroes before had even attempted to register in the community of Belle Ellen, near

Birmingham. Word had spread beforehand to the whites that the men, members of a civic group, were planning to register. The registrar was seated in a car in front of the office when the men arrived. When the Negroes approached, they were asked to come up one at a time; the registrar proceeded to quiz each person, not bothering to leave the car. Their letter tells the rest of the story: We went to the polls to vote November 6 [1930] but didn’t pass our registration because of these questions: ... (1) How

many articles and amendments are there in the Constitution? (2) What is meant by non compos mentis when it is applied to a citizen in legal jeopardy? (3) Name the amendments in rotation. (4) What is meant by habeas corpus?

NEGRO REGISTRATION 263 In an attempt to aid Birmingham blacks in their efforts to hurdle the obstacles to registration offered by the board of registrars, the Southern Negro Youth Congress of Birmingham offers

a free tutorial service, designed to prepare Negroes for the questions fired at them by the registrars in the constitutional tests. A set of questions and answers on registration, here reproduced, was worked up and distributed in the Negro community.

1. What does it mean “to register”? “To register” means to file formal application to have one’s qualifications passed upon as a prerequisite to voting. 2. Why is it necessary to register? It is necessary for one to register to see if he has the necessary requirement as set out by the state laws. 3. Who can register? Everyone who is a citizen of the United States and the State of Alabama may register, providing he or she is 21 years of age; has not been convicted of a crime; has been working; if he or she can read and write any passage of the Constitution of the United States; if a person cannot read or write but owns real estate or personal property valued at $300.00 or more or is married to someone who owns that amount of property may register. A person does not have to posses both qualifications.

4. When do you register? The books for registration will be open in Birmingham from November 16 to December 30, inclusive.

o. Where do you register? The place of registration is at the county Courthouse on the first floor.

6. If I haven’t paid my poll tax can I register? One may register before he pays his poll tax, in fact it is the best policy to register and then pay poll tax. 7. How long must I have to live here in order to register?

register. |

One must have lived in Alabama two years, in the county one

year and in a precinct or ward three months before he can 8. If I can’t read or write can I register? One may register

if he can’t read or write providing he owns property or is mar-

ried to someone who owns property valued at $300.00 or more.

9. What makes me a “bona fide resident”? If you have lived here the prescribed time and intend this shall be your home.

264 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

10. Do war veterans have to register? War veterans have to register but are not required to pay a poll tax. 11. What shall I do when I go to register? Request a blank for registration and fill it out and return it to the Board of Registrars. 12. What kind of questions will I be asked? Usually no

questions other than what appears on the blank is asked. 13. What must I know about the U.S. or the state Constitution to register? The law requires that you should be able to just read the Constitution if you do not own property.

14. How will I know whether I have been registered? A certificate of registration signed by the members of the Board will be given to you. 15. Is there any law to protect me if I am threatened with

losing my job for attempting to register? There are ample Federal laws to prosecute a person who threatens to fire one for attempting to register, as well as law giving one the privilege to sue for a breach of contract. 16. Must I bring witnesses in order to register? Witnesses are not necessary for registration. 17. What shall I do if I am not registered? If you are not registered, report that fact to the investigator of the NAACP, Mr. E. O. Jackson the chairman of the Legal Redress Committee or the NAACP Atty. A. D. Shores. 18. Is it ever necessary to register a second time? It is not

necessary to register a second time unless you change counties.

19. After I have registered am I entitled to vote? You are entitled to vote after registration when your poll tax is paid. 20. Who can vote? All persons who have registered and have paid their poll tax. 91. After I have registered and paid my poll tax how soon can I vote? At the very next election of any kind.

22. Where can I get additional information on this subject? From Mr. E. O. Jackson, special investigator and field secretary of the NAACP and at the office of the legal adviser of the NAACP, Atty. A. D. Shores.

The chairman of the Jefferson County board of registrars states that, according to the law, the board can make no difference in the treatment of Negroes and whites, and “so long as I am in this office, the law will be carried out.” He estimates that

there are between eight and nine hundred Negroes who are

NEGRO REGISTRATION 265 qualified voters, though he could not estimate how many others

are registered.? He stated that there were approximately nine hundred Negroes registered in Jefferson County following the 1901 constitution—-a much larger percentage of both the voting population and of the Negro population than at present. This change in ratio he attributes to the actions of past boards in refusing to register Negroes. A check of the registration records, however, revealed that during the registration period from

January through July 1939, the previous board had registered : 1,966 people, of whom 79 had been Negro. During the first period of the new board, 1,054 people had been registered, of whom only 7 were Negro. And during the second period they had registered 1,691, of whom only 4 were Negro. When confronted with these figures, the chairman of the board tried to explain by claiming that not so many Negroes had come in to } register recently. But, when pressed for a more accurate statement, he admitted that some 175 had come in, and he revealed that during the two previous periods “a Negro organization” had brought 400 people up to the office at one time and 200 at another time. He also admitted that the United Mine Workers of America had brought over 200 Negro miners into the courthouse at Bessemer when registration was proceeding there, Although practically all of these Negroes were turned down, the chairman conceded that during the two registration periods in which he had served only 25 white people had been rejected. Yet he insisted that the Negro is treated justly. “I don’t know how the other boards did it, but we give every Negro who comes

up here a fair test.” He explained that the Negro applicant is asked to read a section of the constitution and to interpret it. If it happens to be the preamble of the constitution, he is asked such questions as: “What does domestic tranquility mean?” The registrar explained that very few Negro applicants had been able to answer this question, but that he did not reject them on the basis of one question. He had prepared, with the help of a lawyer, a whole series of questions. If it happened to be the second section of the constitution they were asked to read,

the applicants would be asked to explain the functions of the three branches of government. The chairman obviously felt that he had worked out a perfect method from a legal standpoint for disfranchising the Negro. The total number of Negroes identified as such on the quali3, Stoney’s interview, Birmingham, Alabama, March 1940.

266 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

fied voting list of Jefferson County is as follows, by year: 1928, 419; 1936, 549; 1938, 712. The number of Negroes registered between the printing of the list in 1938 and 1940 was 166.4 A former clerk who served for three years in the registrar’s

office in Birmingham gave the following description of the methods of dealing with Negro applicants for registration. Negroes would be given applications when they came in. After they had filled them out, they were told that the office would notify them when to come back for examination. All of these applications were checked by the clerk with the criminal dockets. If the

applicant had failed to mention on his application that he had been convicted of crime, no matter whether it was a felony or misdemeanor, his application was thrown out. If it was a felony and he noted it, the application would be discarded even if his citizenship had been restored. The clerk explained: “You know, When you check all the drunk cases and everything, there’s hardly a nigger in town that isn’t on the books.” These Negro applicants were never notified. If they inquired, the court records would be cited and this was enough to frighten them into silence. A second inspection of the files picked out all of the schoolteachers, doctors, lawyers, and a few businessmen. These were notified to come on a special day set aside for their examination. The others were given examinations only if they raised too much disturbance. Those picked for examination were given

very slight tests and almost all of them were registered. Those who raised objections were generally given very severe examinations and few of them would pass. This clerk thought that the reason the present board of registrars is able to eliminate practically all Negro applicants is because it is giving all of them the severe examination. He said that the old method of elimination had been worked out before “the nigger lodges began stirring up their members. I’m glad to see this new board keeping them out better. You’ve got to some way. If you don’t, these damn politicians are going to start going out and saying

‘Mr. nigger, I want your vote.’” And, with this, he spat in disgust.

A former member of the Jefferson County board said that 4. These figures were obtained by Stoney from the county board of registrars, March 1940. They do not agree with the estimates Arthur D. Shores made in the interview of 18 November 1939, cited above. Shores thought that, by the fall of 1939, three thousand Negroes were registered in Jefferson County, two thousand of them having been added to the rolls in 1939. On one occasion, he said, some three hundred Negro miners came to the registration office at once and were all registered. —EDp.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 267 black applicants for registration were taken care of by simply having them file applications. When the time for their examination came, the board sent for all of those whose applications indicated that they might be qualified. A list of questions on the constitution had been drawn up. To make things legal, these same questions were also used in examining a few whites whom

they required to take tests. In this way, the board was “fairly successful” in preventing Negroes from registering. However, it was explained with regret that more and more Negroes are being educated to the point where they can pass any reasonable test. This woman warned: “It’s a thing we are going to have to

face. I don’t know what we are going to do about it. I am strongly in favor of keeping the cumulative poll tax. It is the only thing in the world that will save us.”

White Southerners are facile at conjuring up the awful things that would happen to the South should the Negro get the vote. A Democratic official in Jefferson County pointed out that

if such were the case, Negro voters would be bought at “fifty cents a head” and “herded like sheep” into the polls as they had been herded before 1901. He expressed the belief that only the cumulative poll tax and strict registration would serve to keep Negroes out, because “So damn many of them are being educated by the state now that you can’t keep them out by the literacy test. We’ve found that when they get educated, they tend to become radical.” This informant expresses the belief that if Alabama did away with the cumulative poll tax, “thousands” of Negroes would be brought into the border counties of the state and voted by “industries and labor unions—it don’t matter which.” He charged that the “labor unions” are getting to be so powerful in Birmingham, especially among the Negroes, that it will take eternal vigilance to keep them in check. A barber who is a beat committeeman for one of the larger boxes in Ensley (an industrial community on the outskirts of Birmingham and the home of a large steel mill), and who is also an officer in the Ensley Italian Club, was shaving a white man from Cullman County while discussing politics in Jefferson County. He mentioned that there are several colored voters in his beat, that they take a great deal of interest in elections, and “hardly ever miss.” The man from Cullman then remarked, “They ought to kill every one of the bastards that does.” The Negro shoe-shine boy was working on the Cullman gentleman’s shoes at the moment. The barber asked “Shine” whether he had ever managed to get registered. The young Negro fumbled un-

268 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

certainly, uneasy under the harsh stare of the man from Cull- ) man, and replied: “Naw sir, we had a meeting up to the Masonic Lodge Hall [the location of the Birmingham NAACP] and they told us all to go register. I went down there and filled out some old blank they give me. I ain’t heard nothing from it.”

The Negro recording secretary of the Birmingham Negro Smelter Workers’ local registered on 6 December 1939. He relates that in his examination he was asked——-among others— the following questions:

1. What form of government do we live under?

2. Name the three branches of government and tell the

function of each. |

3. Name the two houses of Congress. Tell how the members of each are elected. 4. How is the number of representatives determined? 5. What is the Bill of Rights? Name some of its provisions.

6. From what country did our form of government originate?

He states that after he had fully answered all of these—which took some twenty minutes of oral examination—he was told to step aside. He moved away about twenty feet. The registrars

conferred for a few minutes and then told him that he was

“unanimously passed.” As he put it, “That meant I could vote as soon as I paid $21 poll tax.” And he paid that tax the next day. This man had been filing completed applications every year since 1934. His wife accompanied him to the examination and was tested following his success. The registrars would not let him stay in the room during her test. She informed him that she had been asked about the same questions and thought that she answered them correctly, but she was rejected. She is a graduate of a Neero college in Mississippi and taught school for several years. She was told by the registrars that they were not refusing her because she was from Mississippi; they also said that she “knew a lot more about the Constitution than most people who came up there, and if she would come back the next time she ought to be able to pass.” Her husband, the recording secretary, had had no schooling above the sixth grade, but had studied for two years in the WPA adult education class held in a Negro church in Birmingham, and this had given him the knowledge necessary to answer the questions put to him.

Another Negro—a man of forty-nine—-who had accom-

_ NEGRO REGISTRATION 269 panied these two to the examination had an unsuccessful quest.

He, too, thought he had answered the questions all right, and he had also studied in the WPA school. When he was rejected, the registrars told him that they would be glad to give him a list of the questions, and that he could take his case before the court if he was not satisfied with the treatment accorded him. He was given no reason for being turned down. As he describes it, “They told me to come back in April and I could try again.” In answer to the question as to whether he would do so, he said: “Sure I am. I’m going up there till they get so tired of me

theyll put my name on the book just to get shed of me. It might be best for me not to get registered for a couple more years, anyway. It'll take me that long to save up the poll tax | owe.”

The head district organizer of steel workers in Birmingham, although engaged in a campaign to register the Negro members of his union, expressed some reservation about the general right of Negroes to vote. This organizer, a Welshman, had chosen and schooled twelve Negro members of the union for registration. Previously he had sent more than a hundred Negroes to

the Bessemer courthouse to try to register in one day. They were turned away by the registrars with the excuse, “out of blanks.” He was sure that the twelve Negroes subsequently selected and trained knew more about the constitution “than the registrars themselves.” The Negro schoolteacher who tutored them got through, but all twelve of these black applicants were turned down. Said the district organizer: “I’m not so sure about this question of the Negro voting, It’s all right for us and the men in the union. We know they will vote with us, but how

about those in the black belt around these plantations? They can't help but vote the way their landlords want them to vote.... I don’t know whether I think it’s a good thing or not.”

The CIO in Alabama has been encouraging the poor white worker to pay his poll tax and has also begun to devote its at-

tention to the political plight of the Negro. One local of the UMW in Walker County, organized in the Alabama By-Products

Coal Corporation, borrowed $1,100 from the First National Bank of Jasper; it first compelled every white member to register, with the local advancing the poll tax, and then compelled every white member who had paid his poll tax to carry one Negro to the registration office and to help him qualify. The local advanced the Negro’s tax. It is claimed that 485 whites and Negroes were registered in this way—of whom 267 were

270 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Negroes. This occurred in 1937. Since then, it is further claimed by a CIO representative that seven large locals in the state, with

a total membership of more than six hundred each, have adopted the same policy. Prior to the adoption of this practice in Walker County, only two Negroes and only 4 percent of the poor whites voted there. The ability of Negroes to get registered in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, varies with the registrars. Some of these are favorable, while others deliberately make difficulties. All of them, however, have objected to wholesale Negro registration. Negro war veterans must qualify like any other black registrant, though this is contrary to law. According to two prominent Negroes, a few years ago it was possible “to get the names of a number of Negroes we wanted registered, take them into the office, and they would mail out the registration certificates. We’ve always endorsed our own people though they turned down some of the applications at times; if we brought too many, they'd hold us up, stall for time, and so forth.” On occasion, when the registrars in

-Tuscaloosa have desired to stop some Negro from registering,

they have applied the constitutional interpretation test. One Negro applicant, it is alleged, was told that he would have to recite the Constitution. The Negro went on to recite the Gettys-

burg Address, and the registrar said: “That’s right. You can go ahead and register.”

Negroes do not vote in the Democratic primaries at Tuscaloosa. All of the Negroes registered are said to be Republicans. A few years ago one Negro actually voted in the Democratic primary. In order to do so, he employed a white lawyer when efforts were made to stop him; when the lawyer accompanied him to the polls, he was allowed to vote. Negroes in Tuscaloosa do not state their party affiliations when they register. It is said that attempts are made to require black registrants to meet the three-hundred-dollar property qualification in order to register.

Thus an ordinary Negro has no chance. The more advanced Negroes, it is claimed, are even encouraged to register, and the superintendent of education has invited Negro teachers to regis-

ter. Negroes are encouraged to register, asserts the chairman of the local board:

I tell the other members of the board we can get the poll tax out of them [Negroes]. I always have trouble about this with the new members. What I do, generally, is to call a meet-

ing and explain the thing to them. I tell them the kinds of

NEGRO REGISTRATION 271 niggers we got voting now, and [ tell them how much poll tax we collect, and I generally don’t have much trouble after that.

In 1935 the Tuscaloosa County superintendent of schools sent out a letter stating that all teachers—white and black— would have to have their poll taxes paid or their contracts would

not be renewed. This threat was not carried out, but it frightened a large number of teachers into paying up. The chairman of the board of registrars states that he sent word to the Negro teachers that the board would hold a special night for all those who wished to come to register. This was done, he explains, to save them “embarrassment” and only after it had been noted that some of the Negro women teachers had shown signs of uneasiness when they had come in earlier. It is said that at this session the superintendent of schools came up and helped the Negro teachers fill out their blanks. No constitutional tests were given.

According to this registrar, only three Negroes are known to him to vote in the Democratic primary, and “they’re good old niggers. Nobody fools with them.” He does not think that other Negroes try to vote in the primary and feels quite sure that they would not be welcome. They do vote freely in the city elections, however, which are nonpartisan. He states that he has heard no complaint from the people in the county about Negroes voting and assumes that this is because Negroes do not vote in the primaries. Not a great many Negroes apply for registration, however. Only about half a dozen were registered during the last ten-day period when over eight hundred people were put on the registration books. All of the Negroes who applied were accepted. All of these except one—an ex-soldier—were schoolteachers. The

chairman of the board reports that, while some 10,000 whites are registered in Tuscaloosa County, only between 150 and 200 Negroes are on the registration list. This, he explains, results from the fact that Negroes “just don’t care to register.” He claims that he has never turned down a Negro applicant for registration. In a recent thirty-day registration period, he asserts, not a single Negro appeared for registration. Negroes in Tuscaloosa contradict this.®

It became increasingly difficult for Negroes to register in Tuscaloosa County after the split some fifteen years ago with 19 >. Gunnar Myrdal’s interview, Tuscaloosa, Alabama, 17 November

272 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

the Republican “lily-whites.” It became necessary for Negroes to go to one or another of the registrars at night and make bribes or promises of help in order to get registered. The two election

boards prior to the present one made the Negro registrants memorize the constitution. Since the new chairman came on the

board, however, things are reported to be somewhat easier. If the chairman of the board is not present, Negroes do not try to register, for the other members always try to hold them up. But even with the sympathetic chairman, Negroes find it impossible to get registered the first time and are told to come back. The chairman has registered several Negroes “after hours” who have been refused registration by his colleagues. In general, it is

said, Negro teachers and veterans are now accepted without much question, whereas previously they were given examinations. Yet Negroes in Tuscaloosa wish that they might be registered in a “legal way,” and there is a feeling that all who have been registered could be denied the right to vote if they were

challenged. The wish is often expressed, too, that Negroes might register “without having to depend on favors.”

It is estimated by Negro leaders that there are about five hundred Negroes on the registration books in Tuscaloosa County and that about three hundred are qualified to vote. The other two hundred can’t pay up their poll tax. There are a great many other Negroes in the county who might be able to vote. For instance, there are a good many Negro veterans who could vote without paying taxes, but who have not registered. This is especially true of Negroes living outside of the city in the county.

These Negroes, however, apparently cannot see any advantage in voting in the meaningless general elections. The Negroes in the city have the municipal elections to interest them. Negroes have been regularly refused permission to vote in the Democratic primary. They are all “supposed to be” Republicans, though, actually, most of them vote Democratic now. Two or three Negroes do vote in the primary, but there is some doubt as to whether their votes are counted. About a dozen Negroes try to vote in the primary at each election. They call themselves Democrats and insist that they have a right to vote. They are generally held up, however, told that they must go to see this or that official, and are stalled off until the polls are closed. In the city elections in Tuscaloosa, Negroes claim to hold a balance of power, for the city races are nonpartisan and often very close. This is the only time there is any semblance of real opposition to Negro registration shown by the general public—

NEGRO REGISTRATION 273 in the registration period just preceding the municipal election. During these periods, when two or three Negroes go in to register, there is always cursing and mumbling among the white peo-

ple in the halls. As a result of this, the chairman of the board of registrars has asked Negroes, if possible, to try to register at other periods, when there is less feeling. The Civic League in Tuscaloosa, which is the chief Negro or-

ganization in town, carries on an active program of civic education among blacks, consisting mainly of encouragement to Negroes to register and pay their poll tax. There is also a Negro voters’ organization which meets just prior to each election. Its main job is to get Negroes, especially young Negroes, to vote. When municipal elections come up, each candidate is invited to come before this group and speak. These meetings are never publicized. The leaders of the group interview each candidate about his intentions on matters affecting Negro welfare in the town. Following these meetings, the group holds a general discussion and the club selects the ticket it will support. These endorsements are kept as secret as possible, for the hint that a white candidate has received the promise of Negro support is often used in whispering campaigns against him. The tax collector of Bibb County, a cotton-growing and mining county, is perhaps a fairly typical example of the Alabama courthouse official. George Stoney found him standing behind the elbow-high desk, rubbing his two-day growth of beard, spitting a stream of tobacco juice over a pile of tax ledgers into the sawdust bed of the stove, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his

summy sweater, and readjusting the battered hat which he al_ ways keeps on in the office—while agreeing to give Stoney a few minutes of his “very valuable time.” A good-natured man of not more than thirty, he seemed glad to talk with Stoney in order to break the monotony of chatting with the courthouse loafers and the shriveled old tax assessor who shares his office. The tax collector, whose office is in Centerville, was eager to tell Stoney about the “old nigger miner” who had come into his office

and paid up $13.50 in back poll taxes. Only three Negroes had paid the poll tax. He referred to the Negroes sympathetically as “good old niggers” and stated that about twenty-five of them were registered for voting. The others, he said, could not pay their poll tax. He pointed out that a great many Negro miners had been trying to register, but added: “They been holding them out. I don’t think they're gonna get away with it much longer. We got enough white men in the county to take care of

2/4 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

them if they get out of hand. The reason they are fighting it so hard—just between you and me and the gatepost—is because them are CIO niggers.” Of the twenty-five Negroes registered in Bibb County, two or three are schoolteachers and the others are old settlers. The few who vote do so in the Democratic primary as well as in the general election. A registrar of Bibb County explained that there was some “trouble” about Negroes trying to register in the mining district town of Belle Ellen at the last registration period. It was said that about a dozen Negroes came in and tried to register. The registrars permitted all of these Negroes to fill out the blanks, and the registrars went back to that beat the next day to give them a special examination. Only one of them passed the test, however. The list of questions on the constitution was made

out by the probate judge. This informant added, rather sympathetically:

They studied, too. One of them was especially smart. We registered one old nigger who came in by himself. A second one was registered this past time—an old farmer, also a war veteran—but, we very seldom have one to apply. Theyre not interested in that kind of thing around here. I think those at Belle Ellen tried to register because somebody got after them.

Shelby Johnson, chairman of the Negro Voters’ Club of Huntsville and operator of the “Grand Shine Parlor,” is recognized by local whites as one of the “leading colored men” in town. He first registered as a voter in 1919 after he had “tried quite a few times.” He kept going to the courthouse by himself or with one or another white man, but it was no use. Finally, he

got three leading white men in the courthouse to go in with him and the registrar took him in. Since then he has been trying to help other Negroes to register. In the case of one of his recent successes, he had to go to the registration board four times before he finally got the man put on the books, just before the registration period closed.

Johnson states that he knows one of the Huntsville registrars personally and likes him “as a white man.” But, he notes, the registrar carries on a policy that has been maintained for years in Huntsville—to register just a few Negroes to show that the county is within the law. He recently registered one of Johnson’s friends “as a personal favor to me” and told Johnson when he did so “not to bring any more Negroes up there for an-

other couple of years.” Johnson, his wife, his son, and his

NEGRO REGISTRATION 279 daughter all vote, and, when they do so, it is in the Democratic “white” primary and in the city elections. They have had trouble at the polls only once, and that was in 1934 when “a man ran us away from the polls with a stick.” He remarked that he and his wife did not “bother” to go back down to the polls at that time. They pay the poll tax. Johnson explains that most Negro schoolteachers in Huntsville have not tried to register because “they are afraid for their jobs,” and the same applied to the teachers at the A. & M. Col-

lege. Nevertheless, a good number of Negroes in Huntsville have been trying to register for several years, but have always been turned down. He adds:

You go up there, and they might tell you the blanks have given out or it’s closing time. Most of the time they just walk out on you. The law says, they say, that all three of the regis-

trars must be there before they can register a person. This isn’t so, because I’ve seen them register white people when only one is there; but just as soon as they see a Negro coming, one of them gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it.

Shelby Johnson tries to get at least one Negro registered each

registration period. And he knows the routine well. First, his Negro applicants. are handed a blank—if the supply has not accidentally run out as it did on one occasion. The whites were allowed to use blanks that had been spoiled before, but the Negro he had with him on that occasion had to come back. Then they are told to fill out the blanks. For whites, the registrars fill the blanks out themselves. By the time the Negro has filled out the blank, one of the registrars has slipped out and they cannot legally register, they say, because all three of the registrars are not present. The Negro is then told to come back later. When he does, it is “after closing time.” Closing time may be anywhere from two o’clock in the afternoon on. Or the officer may look over the application and claim to find mistakes in it. He cancels the blank and tells the applicant he must come back and try again. If the Negro applicant refuses to leave when the third officer steps out and decides to wait until he comes back,

the registrar (a) temporarily closes the office, forcing him to leave, or (b) ignores his application entirely, making him wait around until all whites are served and, incidentally, until it is “too late” again. Meanwhile, remarks are often made to try to intimidate, or, more often, to embarrass and ridicule the appli-

276 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

cant and any people who happen to be with him. Johnson says that Negroes in Huntsville are often left off the poll list, especially new registrants. He does not know whether this is intentional or not, and, in any case, he has never known Negroes to have trouble getting on the supplementary list when they have appealed to the probate judge. A registered Negro voter in a northern Alabama mill town explained the procedure whereby it was possible for him to get him son registered by exercising his personal friendship with a registrar.

When I carried my boy up there to be registered, he told me to go home and he would see me later. That night he came

down here and registered him here in the shop. He took a chance. It’s against the law, and I hope you don’t let this get out, because I don’t want to get Mr. ____——siinto any trouble. He told me he wanted to see my boy registered, but he didn’t like to have Negroes hanging about where they were registering people. He said the other registrars didn’t like it, and the public might not understand... . I wish my boy hadn’t had to register that way. You can’t enjoy your privileges when you get them through the back way like that... . We don’t want to see Negroes in office. Things are in a bad enough mess as they are without us making them any worse, but we do want a little protection.

The circuit judge of Madison County is rather circumspect in his discussion of Negro registration and voting in the county. He told Stoney:

No, there has been no effort on the part of anyone, to my knowledge, to register the Negro citizens. Some of them have registered themselves—some few—I don’t know how many.

I have heard the registrars talking among themselves, and I judge from what they say that they would not be friendly to Negro registration. Of course, they cannot prevent a man from registering, according to the law, solely on that ground. I hope they do not do this, but I cannot say. The Republicans have shown no interest in the Negro vote in Huntsville. A Negro teacher in Madison County, who has been teaching since 1920, is a registered voter. He explains that when he first registered, he was “a young man and didn’t mind pestering them

to death.” He went to the registration office three times and

NEGRO REGISTRATION 277 every time one of the registrars would walk out. Then the others would say that they could not register him until all three of the registrars were present. Finally, he got a letter from the super-

intendent of schools and got one of the courthouse officials to go in with him. They then signed him up, explaining when they did so that it was done “for the sake of the principal” and “so they would be complying with the law.” But they added that they would not register any more Negroes that year.

In 1928 this man fell behind with his poll tax and did not qualify for voting again until 1940, when he paid eighteen dollars in back taxes. He proudly displayed his poll tax receipt. He voted first, he explained, because the president of the normal school at that time had urged him to try it. He paid up so much

back poll tax this year because he has come to believe more than ever that Negroes must vote to secure their rights. His wife does not vote. He took her to the registration office a couple of times, but each time one of the registrars “walked out on her. She got disgusted and won’t go up there any more.”

Another Negro teacher, who had lived and voted in Indiana and Missouri, ran into a stone wall when he attempted to register in Madison County. He first tried to register in the county in

1937; the county officials refused to accept a transfer from Missouri because that state does not require the poll tax. He explained his experience in these attempts to register: I got into the office sometime after 3:00 o’clock. A school teacher, you know, can’t go to town in the middle of the day.

They told me I would have to get some qualified voter to vouch for me. I went out and got lawyer Grayson [a white man, trustee of the normal school and referee in bankruptcy]. When we got back, they said it was “closing time,” but the clock said it was a little after 4:00.

In 1939 I tried again—three times. At the first attempt I stood around for quite some time before I could get their at- : tention. They were busy writing in their books, sharpening their pencils and straightening up the papers on the table. After a while I saw that I was being evaded. One of them stepped out to get a Coca Cola, and before he came back, the second man went out. Finally, I went up to the chairman, John Hampton, and told him I wanted to register. He looked up at me and asked: “Who sent you here?” I told him, no one. He said: “What makes you think you can register?” I told him I thought I was qualified. I said this as politely as I knew how.

278 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Then, he asked who would recommend me. I gave him the names of several influential persons in town who had promised to help me: the superintendent of the city schools, Mr. Todd of the Risin Bank. ... He said I would have to have them in person. I went out and in ten minutes, I was back with Mr. Brewster, a white man who works at Humphrey’s Pharmacy. The chairman tried to get Mr. Brewster off to one side and whisper

to him, but I heard enough to know he was persuading him not to sign for me. When he told Brewster he would have to

put his name on the application, he said he had better not do that. I guess he was afraid they might put his business on

the spot. |

I went and talked the matter over with Superintendent

Brown [white superintendent of schools]. He expressed eagerness to recommend me. He implied he would sign my application, but preferred to do it in his office. Mr. Hampton would

not let me take out the application. The second time I tried was a day later, carrying with me a qualified Negro voter, Mr. Patterson [a filling station owner].

They were all busy when I got there and before they got around to me, it was “closing time” again. Other people were still registering, however. I asked two of the registrars when closing time came. One of them told me it was 3:30 and the other said 4:00 o’clock. Finally, they told us we would have

to get out, and they closed the door. I waited around and noticed a white couple walk in... . ] went around to the other door and walked in. I found the board registering these two

people. In the meantime, my witness had gotten a white person to come in with him. He is a clerk from Judge Butler’s

office, | think. He insisted that I be registered. Even at his insistence, Mr. Hampton would not register me. He said it was too late. The third time was a week or so later. I carried Dr. Cashin, a qualified Negro voter, with me. Finding that I was going to

be persistent, the chairman gave me the answer he should have given me the first time. When I asked him for an application blank, he said: “You're a school teacher, aren’t you?” “Yes,” I said. “And, you’re supposed to have some sense.” I told him I might not have as much as many people think I Should have, but that I thought I was qualified to vote. “Do -

. you know the purpose of the Constitution adopted by the state of Alabama in 1901?” I told him I did not know to what

NEGRO REGISTRATION 279 specific matter he had reference. “I’m going to tell you. It was

adopted for the purpose of disfranchising the Negro.” “For that reason you are not going to register me?” “I think not.” That was the end of it. I told him I was going to take up the matter in the court and walked out. Next time, ’'m going to take a lawyer with me. We're going to push this thing through.

This man believes that there are “a great many people— white and black”—-who are not qualified to vote in the county. He states that he has seen white people registered who could

not write their names: “They would have to hold their hands while they made the cross.” There were 109 Negroes registered in Madison County in 1902. This is the top figure for this county; 1908 saw a few more registered, and then scarcely a Negro was registered until 1919. A few more were then able to register, until 1924, and then there were none until 1930. In 1902 there were a number of Negroes registered in the rural boxes, but now there are only four. A Negro teacher in the Negro high school in Huntsville has tried twice to register. His first experience was two years ago, when he was told that there were no blanks available. On his second attempt, during the registration period for 1939-40, the office was “closed in my face.” He is not very enthusiastic about registering now because it would require him to pay twelve dollars for delinquent poll taxes. Three of his fellow teachers vote, but two of these are absentee voters in other parts

of the state. He explained that, while the teachers talk about voting, they have the feeling that it is hopeless to try. The women teachers dislike the treatment they expect to receive when they make the effort, and the men find it difficult to raise the poll tax money. As he put it, “It’s hard to pay Alabama poll tax on an Alabama standard of living.” The principal of the Negro high school at Huntsville, E. Z. Matthews, first registered in Sheffield in 1917. His wife was also

registered there. In 1937 he tried to transfer this registration to Randoph County, where he was teaching. The probate judges

in both places agreed, but the board of registrars of Randolph County refused. The board explained that no Negro had registered in that county since 1902. Eight Negroes were on the

books from that date. Thus, it was necessary for the Negro principal to transfer his vote back to Sheffield and vote absentee.

He has not yet attempted to transfer his vote and that of his wife to Huntsville, though he intends to do so.

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Matthews related that when he first went to vote, the registrar flatly refused him, saying he had never registered a Negro before. He was principal of the school at Sheffield at that time and appealed to a prominent white politician. This politician wrote across the application, “Please register Professor Matthews. He is all right.” After that, according to Matthews, “The registrar was the height of politeness because I had the backing of the strongest men in the county. That’s the only reason most of us get on the books.”

It was not this easy to get his wife registered, however, although she became one of the first two Negro women in Sheffield to register. There was great fear, he explained, that many Negro women would come and register in 1920 because they did not have to pay back poll taxes. He and his wife went to the

registrar’s office at 1:30 p.m. The registrars refused to take them until about 5:00 p.m. Then, finding that she was a school-

teacher, they stopped asking her about the constitution. The two of them kept sitting there until about six o'clock. The registrars wanted to lock the door, but they kept sitting there, so a registrar went over to the desk, wrote a couple of minutes, and shoved a piece of paper in Mrs. Matthews’ hand. “What’s this?” Matthews asked him. “Damn you,” said the registrar. “That's it!” Another Negro schoolteacher in Madison County was regis-

tered in 1937, but has never voted due to inability to pay the back poll tax. He would have had to pay $13.50 in order to vote this year. He is the son of Huntsville’s best-known Negro citizen, the messenger and porter in the Risin Bank. Consequently, he

states, he had “no trouble” when he went to register, because his father was so well known. He went to the registrar’s office a couple of times, and Mr. Hampton [the registrar] put me off,

so I went to the mayor of the city and got a statement from him. When I got back, Mr. Hampton said it was closing time, but when he read the note from Mr. McCollister [the mayor],

he said it was all right. He asked me a few questions about the constitution and made me fill out the blank without explaining what he wanted in the places. I did that all right. Then he asked me if I owned enough property to vote. I told him I was paying taxes on an automobile. He made me go get a statement of taxes on that and then gave me my certificate right off.

This Negro teacher's father, the “respected colored citizen,” had registered in the early 1920s. He said that he had had no

NEGRO REGISTRATION 281 trouble because two men at the bank where he is employed went over with him. He pointed out that at that time the Negro vote was especially important to these men because they were fighting the Ku Klux Klan. They found that, of the three or four hundred members of the Klan, only fifty were registered voters. There were that many Negro voters. The “men at the bank” let the candidates know this and helped end the power of the KKK in local politics. The older man, David Kelly, explained that he thought the registrars were right in letting only the Negro with property vote. It is better for relations with the “white folks” if

only the “highest type of Negro” takes part. “Then they'll see how well we can conduct ourselves.” He also said that Negro voters now accept a certain amount of responsibility for the wel-

fare of other Negroes in town, and they are looked to by the whites. If a great many Negroes start voting, especially the “wrong kind,” Huntsville will be “as bad as Chattanooga.” The Reverend Z. K. Jackson, who is the Negro pastor of the M. E. Church in Huntsville and who moved to Huntsville from Gadsden a year and a half ago, had his vote transferred in De-

cember 1939. One of the registrars lives near the Reverend Jackson and knows his personally, so there was “no trouble” when he had his registration transferred. He is also a war veteran. Governor Bibb Graves made a speech to the schoolteachers of the state over the radio a few years ago, urging all of them to register and vote. Following the speech, Negro teachers in Randolph County—and in several other Alabama counties— tried to register. Three of them in Randolph County were turned down flatly by registrars who had been appointed by Governor Graves.

In Macon County the chairman of the board of registrars declares that the only “trouble” the registrars have had is with the orderlies from the Veterans’ Hospital at Tuskegee. The middleaged lady who is serving as chairman of the board and is now in

her first term admits that she knows little about it, and she states: “Honestly, it’s awful the way they are doing. Oh! They come in and they say they have been here two years when they haven't. They are not really intelligent Nigras like the ones out at Tuskegee, you know. We have to ask them a lot of questions about the Constitution and everything to keep them out.” These questions on the Constitution, she explained, were made out by state senator Watkins Johnson, chairman of the county Democratic committee. The chairman admitted that she had to learn

282 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

the answers to these questions herself! But even this device did not work too well, she averred, because “most of the boys knew a lot about that. I think they had been studying.” So the registrars began to require all of the Negro applicants to have three

hundred dollars worth of property on which they pay taxes in Macon County, and even then two or three of them got by because they owned cars. There has been trouble for Negroes attempting to register in Macon County all along. One of the most active Negro political leaders, Archie Yates, recites some of his experiences in taking other Negroes regularly to register:

First, they started making you get two witnesses to vouch for you—two legal voters. When we got that easy, they made

us get two white witnesses. I started putting pressure on people who I trade with, and they signed for them all right. Then, they started saying we had to get two white people who worked in the courthouse. Then was when we started putting pressure on candidates we’d supported. Now, they'll let us sign with about anybody. ...They’ve started this year asking a lot about the Constitution. They found out we know about that. One doctor from the Veterans’ Hospital scared them to death. He started rattling it off from memory so fast they couldn’t stop him for five minutes. Other Tuskegee Negroes who have desired to register have stud-

ied the Constitution and find no difficulty in answering the questions. Quite lately the registrars have begun to require that everyone have property—even soldiers who have discharges —and Yates exclaimed: “I know that’s not legal!” Consequently, he never likes to take anyone to the registrars’ office who does not have both education and property. He does not encourage

the orderlies from the hospital to go, because they have no property and are not well known in the community. He states: “They get turned down, and it’s bad for our record. A lot of them got turned down last time. They weren’t all high goods.”

Yates says they had to “get after” the principal of Tuskegee in order to persuade him to register. Now that he has registered, it is thought that it will be easier to get other Negroes from the Institute to try. In former years there was a small group of “old Republicans” at Tuskegee Institute, and the county Republicans would make regular pilgrimages to the Institute before the presidential campaigns in order to enlist the support of this group. Yates claims that the Negro vote in Tuskegee has been a con-

NEGRO REGISTRATION 283 trolling factor in recent town elections—this, despite the fact that less than a hundred Negroes are registered. Those Negroes who are able to register, however, are permitted to vote in the white primary. The present tax collector, who was elected in 1938, came out

to Tuskegee, asked for the Negro vote, and promised to treat Negroes well if elected. At this same time a candidate for state senator, an attorney from the town of Tuskegee, publicly stated that he did not want the Negro vote. He called upon the county Democratic committee to seek a court injunction to prevent Negroes from voting in the primary. The Democratic committee, however, refused the request, and the candidate was defeated.

Most of the Negro votes at Tuskegee come from the ranks of the war veterans. At the last election for tax collector of Macon County, the incumbent saw—at three o’clock in the afternoon on election day—that he needed votes, and his supporters hired the Negro taxi in the town of Tuskegee to bring black voters to the polls. Negroes came for the ride, but they had already promised to vote for the man who now has the office. It is claimed that, in return for the black vote, the Negro has gotten better treatment in the courthouse. He is no longer pushed aside to make room for white customers but is taken in turn when he comes to pay his taxes. It has been possible to find whites to vouch for Negro registrants as a result of business contacts with them. Insurance agents, car salesmen, and so forth, are usually willing to vouch for black registrants for fear of losing Negro business. In Union Springs, Bullock County, Alabama, Dr. and Mrs. Smith are Negroes who have recently succeeded in registering. Dr. Smith is a dentist and runs a grocery store. It cost them over fifty dollars to register, but he states that he did not mind paying that amount. “That is nothing to pay for American citizenship. ...A man is not a citizen of this great country unless he

votes. Do you know that?” Dr. Smith, feeling this way, had gone to the former probate judge of the county several times to ask his aid in getting himself and his wife registered. The judge had refused, stating that people in the county would not like it. The present probate judge is his friend, however, and when he

went to see him, he was told that it would be all right if he could get the backing of some other white people in town. Then Dr. Smith got the mayor’s endorsement. With a grin and a wink,

Dr. Smith said: “The mayor is my friend. He’s a wholesale grocer.” The registrars asked no questions. They had him fill

284 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

out his blank and his wife’s, and then said they hoped that the Smiths would always be as good citizens in the future as they had been in the past. Dr. Smith knows of no other Negroes in Union Springs who have tried to register. He feels that a few of the educated Negroes in the town could be registered if they tried. The principal of the Negro high school had said that he might lose his position if he tried to register. Dr. Smith is of the opinion that it is not the poll tax nor even the registration difficulty that is keeping other Negroes from registering, but ignorance, since “most Negroes don’t have sense enough to vote.” He added that he “did not think they ought to try until they are educated,” though “it’s all

right for us who are ready for it.” As Stoney noted, Smith seems to have much more interest in being one of the only three Negro voters in town than in trying to increase that num-

ber. His wife, a near-white mulatto, also thought that there were “not many more people around here who would know how to vote.” The wife’s main concern was over the fact that when the list of Negro voters was published, the designation “Mrs.” had not been placed beside her name, nor “Dr.” beside his, as it is done in Montgomery. The third Negro voter in Bullock County is an elderly retired schoolteacher. The Negro chauffeur of one

of the registrars states that he was not permitted to register when he had suggested it because “niggers don’t vote much down here... . They don’t let us, that’s all.”

In Montgomery County, Alabama, an entirely different process is employed for the registration of Negroes and whites. It is admitted that the reading and writing test is never used by the registrars who make out the blanks for most applicants, as the questions are asked orally. The applicants must sign their own applications. Ordinarily, only the first two sheets are filled out; the third sheet—for witnesses—is left blank, except in a

very few cases where the registrars have reason to doubt the veracity of the applicants. For the registration of Negroes, however, everything is different. Negro applicants are required to fill out their own blanks. One of the registrars explained: “They can't take it outside to fill it out. We make them fill it out right in front of us.” Then they must have two white people, qualified voters, to sign their blanks. A very few of the Negro applicants bring their witnesses with them. Most of them give the names of two people who they think will sign for them. These are in-

structed to go out and get the white people, and have them come in to sign personally. The applications are held throughout

NEGRO REGISTRATION 285 that registration period and then destroyed if the signers do not appear. Few of the signers appear, it is said. When they do ap-

pear, these white witnesses are questioned—unless they are prominent people—about how long they have known the Negro seeking registration, how long they have known him as a resi-

dent at his present address. If the witness has not known the applicant for most of his life, his signature is rejected. Since so many Negroes in Montgomery have moved in from other places,

it is particularly hard for them to find suitable witnesses. A _ registrar described this process with many illustrations, citing one case after another where Negroes had failed to get on the books because of its application.

This registrar also told, with a good deal of color and emotion, of the “eloquent plea” made by a group of prominent Negro doctors and educators before the registration board. They were requesting that Negro voters be allowed to act as witnesses for Negro applicants. The registrar, an elderly preacher, indicated that he sympathized with these men and praised their ability, but cautioned: “You know that wouldn’t ever do. I think every white person at that meeting admired those men for what they

done with themselves, but you know what that kind of thing would lead to.”

The Negro Civic and Improvement League, Inc., submitted the following tactfully worded petition to the county board of registrars in 1938 in an effort to ease the harsh registration requirements applied to Negroes. The petition declared:

That the Negro Civic and Improvement League Inc. of Montgomery, Alabama, represents a large group of Negro citizens, who are embracing the principles of good citizenship, observance of law and order and are ardent supporters of both the federal and state constitutions. While the leadership of the organization is selected largely from the ministers, teachers,

business and professional element of our race, the membership is made up of an appreciable number of the common folk who are intensely interested in the welfare of our great state and in the educational, civic and political improvement of the Negro race. We are deeply grateful for the many considerations which your race and this board in particular have extended our race, we believe that much more good can be accomplished by your sympathetic consideration of this petition. 1. It is the custom of the Board of Registrars to require two

286 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

white persons to come in person and endorse or recommend all Negroes who make application for registration. This requirement seriously handicaps many eligible Negro citizens from becoming registered because of their inability to get their white friends to make the sacrifice necessary to appear in person. There is also the embarrassing aspect of not being

able to use reputable members of their own race who are themselves qualified voters.

2. It is reasonable to expect any one who vouches for or recommends one for registration, that they should know something of the character, education and integrity of the individual and their interest in community welfare. It is obviously true that white persons have rather limited opportunity to know our race in such a manner. 3. In Jefferson, Mobile and other counties in the state Negroes are registered and voting in much larger numbers than in Montgomery where our state capitol is located. The white citizens of our county often aspire for positions in the state and federal government which is within the gift of the electorate but Montgomery’s colored electors cannot contribute much to the success of a Montgomery County candidate as compared with the Negro electors of other counties because of the few that are qualified.

Although the county board of registrars granted a hearing to

the league’s leaders on 18 July 1938, it would not agree to change its practice in requiring two white endorsers of Negro applicants for registration. The Negro population of Montgomery has thus had considerable difficulty in getting on the registration rolls. About sixteen Negro war veterans were taken to the registration office, but only two were able to get through. One of them was spoken

to very roughly, and he left in humiliation. The first time the president of the Negro normal college attempted to register— this being before he was well known in the community—he was told that there was no blank to give him. A couple of years ago, however, he registered without any difficulty. After getting reg-

istered, he encountered two young Negroes who asked him to go into the office and aid them in getting registered. He did so, and the woman at the desk became very irritated, asking him pointedly if he knew “what he was doing for these boys.” Some two or three years ago there were about 265 Negroes registered in Montgomery out of a black population of 29,000.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 287 At the present time, however, there are less than one hundred Negroes on the registration rolls, due to failure to pay the poll tax. About four years ago Montgomery Negroes tried to vote in the Democratic primary and approached the county Democratic committee on the subject. They were told by the secretary of the committee that the Democratic party “is a private party, like a social club. We can take in or reject whoever we please. In other words, it is for white people.” Until two years ago the sheriff, now no longer in office, would turn Negroes back during registration periods by yelling at them: “Go back, you can’t register.”

Practically all of the Negroes who are registered in Montgomery come from the upper ranks of the Negro society. It is well known in the city that the white population is willing to per-

mit a “token” registration of this kind. Two prominent Negroes in Montgomery went to register in 1939. One of them filled out the blank and was asked to bring two responsible white citizens up to the registration office to endorse him. Although the president of a local bank had endorsed this Negro applicant, he did not get registered. It is said

that this requirement of the white character witnesses was started in Montgomery only in 1937. Until that time, responsible Negro citizens might be used as character witnesses. In fact, it is said that on one day in 1936 two prominent Montgomery Negroes remained at the registrar’s office all day as endorsers of Negro registrants and were able to put through 156 Negro voters. Following this episode, however, Negro endorsers were no longer acceptable at the registrar’s office. A Negro member of the American Legion (it is said that there are approximately 1,500 Negro ex-servicemen in Montgomery County, and these do not have to pay poll tax) tried to register at Montgomery many times. On one occasion he presented his American Legion card, but was told to get two white citizens who

would not only endorse him, but who would vouch that he would vote for no ticket other than the Democratic or Republican. Apparently there was fear that he would vote a Socialist or Communist ticket. The applicant resented this and refused to follow these instructions. He went in to see two “big white

: men,” but they were too busy to accompany him to the registration office. One of them, however, connected with a very large furniture company in the city, telephoned the registration office and tried to endorse him in that way, but was told that this was unacceptable. He would have to come up and sign on the dotted line. This was in 1937. A prominent Negro also tried

288 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

to act as endorser for him, but was refused. A Negro came to Montgomery from Tuscaloosa County and presented his registration certificate from his home county, and was told to “go on back to Tuscaloosa to vote.”

The superintendent of education in Montgomery County some four or five years ago made it known that he desired that all teachers—white and colored—be registered voters. The local press printed this news and gave it a good deal of attention. On one occasion thereafter there were thirty Negro teachers waiting to register at the courthouse. It was the last day of registration, but they were told to wait and were left waiting after four o'clock when the office closed. Then a white official came out and told them: “Go on home. You girls needn’t worry about it, you won’t lose your jobs.” The teachers are still not registered, and the superintendent of schools has said nothing more about it. In 1921 a Negro letter carrier thought that his uniform would see him through the registration procedure, but the registrar of

the county told him when he explained his desires: “If you don’t stay out of here, Pll show you how far that uniform will carry you.” He kept going back, however, and finally was able

to get two acceptable white men to vouch for him and was registered. In the three terms that the present chairman of the board of registrars of Coffee County has been serving, only one Negro applicant for registration has appeared. This was a man who had recently moved into the county and wanted to have his vote transferred. The registrars persuaded him that it would be better if he voted absentee in the other county. “We told him how people in this county feel about it, so he decided to take our ad-

vice.” It is thought that there are still four or five Negroes on the voting list in Coffee County—-those who have been on for a very long time and who are now very old and never vote. The chairman of the board says: “We aren’t troubled with that here.

The people wouldn’t stand for it. Now, I recognize that some niggers are capable of voting a lot more intelligently than a lot of white men who do vote. They are the exceptions, of course, and I believe they've got sense enough to know why white people don’t want them to vote.” The chairman can remember when

the landlords brought their Negro tenants to town in wagon loads back in the 1890s in Tuscaloosa County and “voted them like so many sheep. They’d do it again if you let them.” This expression of fear of the Negro vote, so often repeated, is thus not

NEGRO REGISTRATION 289 a fear of the Negro vote per se, but allegedly of the Negro voter as a weapon in the hands of unscrupulous or untrusted whites. In Dallas County a Negro “radical” was refused registration two years ago. This man had been one of the lieutenants in the “Communistic” attempts to “cause trouble” on plantations in Dallas County. He had come into the registrar’s office, it is said, “sneering like he didn’t much care.” The registrars asked him

if he could read; he replied “not much,” and gave the same response as to writing. The registrars then asked him if he knew

anything about the Constitution, and he replied that he knew a little. Then, according to one of the registrars, “We showed him enough to let him know we could keep him out so he didn’t try to register. He walked out... . This is the only time we ever tried to scare a man.”

The “trouble” on the plantations referred to was an attempt to organize a sharecroppers’ union. Again, according to the registrar, two white men—one from New York, the other from Philadelphia—-came into Dallas County and started “stirring up’ Negroes out on the plantations. A couple of meetings had been held, and then a white citizens’ committee was formed. The sheriff accompanied this citizens’ committee of about forty members to the Negro church where the white organizers were

addressing a group of Negroes. The armed members of this committee disarmed the speakers, took them outside the church,

stripped them, and beat them in the light of a fire so that the Negroes could see what they were doing. Then they took them to the county line and let them go. Said the registrar: “They didn’t beat them hard; just enough to humiliate them and show the niggers what they thought of these white men by beating them before niggers.” It is estimated that there are about twenty-five Negroes qualified to vote in Hale County. Three of these have registered during the past five years. One Negro, who was registered two years

ago, discovered that he owed thirty some dollars in back poll taxes and never paid it up. In the 1939-40 registration period another Negro registered but failed to pay the fifteen dollar back

poll tax owed and thus could not qualify for voting. Another Negro applicant attempted to fill out his own application but gave up in the middle of it. The registrars of Hale County require Negroes to fill out their own applications, to give references, and to have those references come in and sign for them. No Negro schoolteachers in the county are qualified voters.

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The chairman of the board of registrars dismissed the subject of Negro voting with the comment: “Niggers around here aren't interested in that kind of thing.” In 1938, and also at the last registration, the names of Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Owens—who run a small Negro business— were left off the voting list, as were those of almost all other Negro voters. Mrs. Owens pointed out that it had cost her husband thirty-six dollars and her fifteen dollars to get registered and pay their poll taxes in 1930. This couple had been able to vote in the November election of 1938 (though their names were left off the poll list) only because they went to the office of the probate judge and got a slip. Negroes are not allowed to vote in the Democratic primary. Owens had tried in 1936. The primary official talked with him

a long time and told him that, if he once voted for the Democrats, he would not be allowed to vote any other way in the fu-

ture, etc. Owens still insisted, however, stating that he had voted for Roosevelt and would do so again. The primary official then pointed to the “white supremacy” emblem, told him that the primary was not supposed to be for him, and asked him if he wanted to be the cause of any “misunderstanding.” Owens then walked out of the polling place in disgust. Since then Negroes have been omitted from the poll list. Negroes are not al-

lowed to vote in municipal elections either, since these are partisan and are under the primary system. It is said that the Negro community of Attalla, an industrial community on the outskirts of Gadsden, in Etowah County, Alabama, had some sixty Negro voters in the old days. Practically all of these had registered in 1902 or shortly thereafter, but the registrars would accept no more black voters until 1936.

Most of the older voters have died out, and now there are seven Negro voters, with perhaps three others registered who are behind with the poll tax and so are not qualified. Cady Lipscomb, Negro cafe proprietor of Attalla, was registered in 1939 and, to qualify for voting, had to pay poll taxes

amounting to thirty dollars. In describing his experience at the registration office, he states: When I first went in there, they wouldn’t wait on me. They was so piled up with white folks, they told me to come back.

When I went back again, he [the registrar] says, “So, I see you've come back.” I says, “Yes, sir.” And I stood back right polite like. They didn’t ask me to sit down like they have the

NEGRO REGISTRATION 291 white folks when they ask questions. I don’t mind that. Id a-stood outside and hollered to get registered, but they was awful nice to me. I was dressed up sorta nice, you know, respectable like. ... He asked me where my white man [witness|

was. I told him he came in with me before and left, but I could go get him. He asked me if I got property and I showed

him my receipts. “And I’m heir to $3,000 more,” I said. “I don’t care how much you're heir to,” he said... . I don’t think he liked to register me much.

The registrar asked Lipscomb the questions and wrote the application himself, which is the practice only when registering whites.

But a friend of Lipscomb, an ex-serviceman, had been refused at the registration office. He recalls: “They told me I had

to be a property owner. The first time I went up there, they asked me to give references back for 20 years. I did that. I got aman to come up there that had known me for 40 years. Then, he [the registrar] asked me if I had any property. I said ‘no.’ He said, “Then, you can’t register.’” The person who had vouched for this Negro applicant was a white WPA road foreman. This

experience had occurred during the first registration period; but the veteran did not give up, and during the second registration period he made three further attempts—all unsuccessful. In his first attempt during the second period, he was told that it was after closing time. The second time he went to the office to see the judge, who had promised to help him and who went in with him and whispered to the registrar. The registrar then

asked if he had a witness to testify for him, but the foreman was not with him at this time, and he was told that he would have to come back again with a witness. On the third attempt, he went back with the foreman but found the judge busy and unable to come over to help him. The registrar flatly refused to register him, saying that he was not going to register any Neero who could not show property qualification. This Negro veteran explains his interest in voting as follows: “Well, ’[m getting on 52 years old. I’ve seen a lot of this county, and I’ve seen it bad. I want to be a citizen of this place before I

die, and maybe cast a vote to better conditions around here. Look at this bunch [pointing to a group of young Negroes who were lounging about in the cafe]. We can’t go on like that-a-way. You know that yourself.” He also pointed out that he had made

many applications for civil service jobs, as an ex-serviceman,

292 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

and felt that he had always been turned down because he is not a voter. This man had been trained for three years at Tuskegee as an electrician. Lipscomb indicated that he had had no trouble getting white people to vouch for him because the salesmen who solicit his trade in the articles he sells in the cafe were all

willing to help him out. Lipscomb’s brother-in-law had also gotten registered and had to pay thirty-six dollars in back poll taxes. He thought this poll tax payment entirely unjust, not so much because of the amount, but because it made him pay “for something I didn’t get to get,” indicating that he considered the poll tax to be a payment for voting rather than for support of the schools.

Homer Battle, a Negro barber in Gadsden, Alabama, works in a shop that serves only whites. He is a registered voter. He got registered without much difficulty when a local white florist signed his papers. As he explains it: “I could have gotten lots of other white people, but I didn’t want to embarrass them.” He was required to show a receipt indicating that he was pay-

ing taxes on three hundred dollars worth of property. In his case, it was a receipt for an automobile tax. He had been trained at Tuskegee, and one of his teachers there had impressed upon

him how much more the Negro might get if he registered and voted. He pointed out that: If we had 50 more Negro voters here, we could have a fine place fixed up for the Negroes in this little town. They have five playgrounds for white children and not one for the colored children. . . . I don’t mean to say anything against our city officers. We have a fine bunch of white officers. They come in here to get a shave and I know all of them personally.

Theyre nice to me, but they can’t do much for you if you aren't a voter.

Battle has aided other Negroes in Gadsden in getting registered. He thinks, however, that Negroes are “wasting their strength” in getting people registered who are too far behind in their poll tax. He is of the belief that the registrars agree among themselves to register a certain number of Negroes each registration period. He also believes that Negroes have made “trouble” for themselves by encouraging people to go up to register who are not qualified—that is, who have not got three hundred

dollars worth of property. During the past year, for instance, Battle himself took the son of one of the wealthier Negroes in town to the registration office. When the young man was asked

NEGRO REGISTRATION 293 for his property receipt, he displayed those for his father’s prop-

erty. The registrar refused to register him because he had no property in his own name. Battle thinks that it is “wrong” for the

courthouse to ask Negroes to pay back poll taxes “when they didn’t enjoy the privilege of voting those years.” Battle votes Democratic and votes in the Democratic primary.

He says: “People come in here before elections, asking me to

vote for first this one and then that one. I always take their cards and say, ‘Yes, sir. Yes, sir.’ I have to do that, you know, to be nice to people; but when I get there, I vote for the man I think is best.” Young Negroes are discouraged from voting because of the poll tax, and they keep hoping it will be modified or repealed. Among the class of Negroes in the South who are interested in voting, this hope that the poll tax will be repealed or modified, insofar as its cumulative features are concerned, is very great. It is estimated that there are about eighty Negroes registered in Gadsden, but only about fifty of these are on the qualified list, since the others have not paid up their poll taxes. A Gadsden Negro undertaker, born in Alabama, is a member

of the American Legion and saw service in the last war in France. He moved north with his family when young and first voted at twenty-one in New York City. He first voted in Alabama

in 1927 in Birmingham. He was refused registration at first, but then he went to the commander of the American Legion for Alabama, who signed his application. At this same time fortynine other Negro ex-servicemen were trying to register, but only two of them were successful. This man’s wife is also a registered voter and had to pay $18.50 back poll tax in order to get on the

qualified list. The undertaker had no trouble when he transferred his vote from Birmingham to Gadsden, because he was already a registered voter in Alabama, had property, and is an ex-serviceman. He realizes that Negroes in Gadsden have no chance to register unless they own property, and he suggests that the temporary exchange of property might be a means of getting around the registrars. He is especially disgusted at the way some of the white candidates try to get the black vote once the Negro gets on the roll. He referred to one candidate for the city commission, who came around to him and “honked his horn till [ had to go out to his car to talk with him. He went up to Dr. Abbott’s and sent somebody up to his office, and had him come all the way down to the street to talk to him. Hell! ’d buy white folks to vote against a man like that.”

294 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

_ J. C. Shinault, an elderly Negro voter in Attalla, had registered in 1902. He explains that there was no trouble in registering in this early period, since he was a property owner and had been active in politics before then. Professing to be an “independent” in politics, he generally votes in the Democratic primary, but in the general elections supports men on both tickets according to his inclinations. He knows of no effort ever having been made by Republicans to aid Negroes in registering in this section of the country. Now seventy-three years old, he has been voting since he was twenty-one. He recalls having made speeches in the campaigns of 1896-98 and in the “big fight” just before 1901. A member of the board of registrars in Gadsden observes: “We do have a few Negras who register and vote. I think about ten have registered since I have been on the board. They are all property owners and good citizens, but we have to have some way of preventing others from taking advantage of us.” One of the members of the Etowah County board is a woman who runs a grocery store down in the hollow of North Gadsden, on the border line between “nigger town” and the hill down below town and the railroad track, where some of the “less desirable” poor whites live. Most of her trade is with Negroes. Her name has appeared on the applications of several Negroes who have registered for voting in the last five years, and she has had

the reputation, among both Negroes and whites in the community, of being “very fair” about letting Negroes register. She explains that not many Negroes vote in Etowah County

because not many can qualify. We got school teachers that can read and write a lot better’n most white people. When they can, I don’t think it’s right to keep them from voting. I don’t believe the law was made to disqualify them that’s fully able to meet all the requirements. We got several niggers here

in town that’s good citizens and they register and vote. I think it’s a good thing. I think if a nigger gets an education, he’s as good a citizen as anybody else; besides, the money [poll tax] goes to a good cause. Every cent of it goes to education, and it educates his young’n just the same as it educates mine.

With regard to the applications of three or four Negro registrants which she signed, this registrar says: “Yeah, I signed for this undertaker around here and his wife. They're good citizens. They trade with me here, and I know’d them since they move

NEGRO REGISTRATION 2995 here. I signed for a colored school teacher. I know a good nigger when I see one. I was raised up with ’em. Three-fourths of my

business is with em.” She estimates that there are about forty Negro voters. She emphasizes that the registrars do not take just anybody’s signature for Negro applicants. “It’s generally a prominent lawyer or a businesswoman, or one of the registrars.” When asked if another Negro voter might sign for a Negro applicant, this registrar responded:

Lord, no! We wouldn’t take their word. There ain't many that gets by me, I tell you. They have to be mighty good niggers to get by me. I don’t want you to go tellin’ nobody that, cause they'll think I’m discriminating when I’m not. [ve been in nigger-town doing business for the past twenty years, and I’ve learned to tell between ’em. I ain’t discriminating. If they

can show where theyre good citizens, [ll sign for them myself.

Itis to be noted that this woman, who says she likes “niggers,” is the most liberal official to whom prospective voters may turn

in Etowah County. With this double responsibility on her shoulders, it is interesting to note her attitude toward the race question as indicated in the following story which she related:

I was a-goin’ up to Long Island to see my sister, and I know d they didn’t do things like we did up there, but I forgot all about it, you know. Well, I go into a railroad car and I see a coal black nigger a-settin’ in almost every seat. Well, I turns

around to go out, thinking I’m in the wrong car and I see a white man comin’ down the aisle at me. “I guess we both got in the wrong car,” I said to him and he laughed, fit to split. “Lord,” he says, “I know’d you was from the South the way you come a-runnin’. Well, you just as well set down,” he says, “cause you're gonna have this ’till you get back across

the Mason-Dixon Line.” [This man sat with her all the way up so she would not have to run the risk of having to sit next to a Negro. | Comin’ back I was a-travelin’ by myself. When I got in the

car, I noticed there was a nigger in almost every seat and when another one’d get on, he wouldn’t go sit with the other niggers. He’d go sit by a white woman. Look to me like they

did it a-purpose. Well, I made up my mind no nigger was gonna sit by me, so I sits cross-wise and puts my feet up to

take up the whole seat. |

296 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

The conductor came by and told her she would have to put them down. She did so, but took out “a long fork knife I always carry

: in my pocketbook when I’m travelin’ and laid it on the seat.” She added that she would have used it “on any nigger that tried

to sit next to me.” She told the conductor this and he said he could do nothing about the situation. The thing for her to do, he advised, was to hail the first white woman to come on the train and have her take up the seat. When the seat next to her was almost the only vacant one left, a little woman going to Baltimore got on the train and agreed to save her from the supreme humiliation. The Southerner swore, with many a laugh and slap on her heavy thigh, that she would have “stuck that knife as far as it'd go” into “any black nigger” who might have tried to sit down next to her. Refusal to register Negroes in Etowah County dates back to 1901, the year of the new constitution. Alabamians can recount endless stories concerning the “menace” of the Negro vote prior

to the 1901 constitution. The postmaster in Alabama City in Etowah County, for instance, tells how his father helped haul Negroes “from one polling place to another, and the nigger vote was the deciding factor. Whoever could buy that up generally got elected. He [father] hated to do it, but it looked like it was necessary. The constitution of 1901 cut out all that.” In the first registration after the new constitution, stories are told of how Negroes were rejected. For instance, one Negro brought

documentary proof that his grandfather, a white man, was in- . deed his grandfather and had voted in 1860. He was “run out of”

the polling place. Another Negro had been trained by a group of Republicans for the literacy test. He memorized the first sections of the state and national constitutions and began to recite

them from memory at the polling place. He also had tax receipts to prove that he owned forty acres and three hundred dollars worth of personal property. Finally, he was refused registration when the registrars persuaded the white man who had come to sign his application to withdraw.

The chairman of the board of registrars of Etowah County states that not more than five or six Negroes have been registered since he has been on the board, though several others had “offered.” He does not believe that Negroes ought to be allowed to register unless they pay taxes on five hundred dollars worth of personal property or own a home. He has refused to register

all who could not show receipts for this amount, stating: “If you want my personal opinion, I think there are damn few

NEGRO REGISTRATION: 297 niggers that ought to vote in any election. You can’t show me

more than two in a thousand who’e not gonna vote for the first person who gives him two bits.” Before the present chairman assumed office, according to his version, there were people on the board who didn’t give a damn. They got pretty lax. The word got out among them [Negroes], and we had them coming in in droves, wanting to register. Well, I just told them they had to show me receipts or get a written statement from the tax collector’s office that they owned $500 worth of property, or they couldn’t register. There was damn few that could qualify. When they learned I meant business, they stopped coming, most of them. The chairman admitted, however, that if these Negroes had gotten a lawyer and challenged him, he would have had to register them, “but they didn’t come back.” When one of the registrars of Cullman County first came on

the board of registrars in 1922, there were only two Negroes registered, and only four have registered since then. A friend of the registrar’s who was with him when this statement was made—an accountant and American Legion leader who speaks with a decided German accent, was outraged to hear that the registrar had registered Negroes under the same rule as he did the whites. Said the registrar, defensively: “Hell, I can’t do anything else. They've all got property and they've got a high school down in the colony [the Negro settlement]. They can read and write as good as you can.” The registrar admitted, however, that he made the Negro applicants fill out their own applications, adding: “Under the law that’s all you can do.” The German inveighed bitterly about the “damn niggers. Dey stink. By George, ef one come around my place, Ill run a poker up his ass. ... I can’t stand to see the black bastards around.” Referring to a Negro employed at the Cullman Hotel, the German added: “He won’t stay here long. Some night somebody will run the son-of-a-bitch out of town.” It is said that there are only about 150 Negroes registered in Decatur, Alabama, and many of these never vote, through fail-

ure to pay up the poll tax. Those who do vote are permitted to vote in the Democratic primary, however. Since the Scottsboro case, Negroes have been called for jury service on both grand

and petit juries, though they seldom actually sit on the jury because the lawyers utilize their challenges to keep them off. Whenever Dr. Newlyn Cashin, a prominent local Negro, en-

298 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

dorses a Negro, he can usually get registered. This is after the Southern pattern, for Dr. Cashin, who was born in Decatur and has been practicing medicine there for many years, is a typical example of the Negro middle-class black in the small Southern town who can command the ear and a certain amount of respect of the responsible whites in the community. According to Dr. Cashin, white candidates in Decatur have often sought the small Negro vote, and, in one instance, a candidate tried to buy the Negro vote with whiskey and food but was unsuccessful in his quest. It is said that Negroes in Mobile had considerable difficulty in getting registered from 1935 until 1939, when a new board of registrars assumed office. About four years ago, Dr. Belsaw, a prominent Negro citizen of Mobile, took a well educated Negro minister down to register. The minister filled out his application, and then the chairman of the registration board informed him that he would have to interpret the United States Constitution. Some random passages from the Constitution were read to him, and he gave an excellent interpretation of them. Then the chairman of the board asked the following questions: “Un-

der what form of government do we live? In how many branches is it divided? Who was the fifteenth vice-president of the United States? Who was the fifth attorney general of the United States?” The minister was unable to answer all of these

questions, of course, and the chairman then told him: “You don’t know the history of your country, and you cannot be reg-

istered.” We were told that, except for this one registration board, which held office only for four years, the boards in Mobile have been fairly lenient toward Negroes. The new board promises to follow in the lenient tradition. Dr. Belsaw asked the registrar why he wished to be “so hard on this man—you know he’s qualified to vote.” The registrar replied: “Now listen, doctor, you know this law was passed to keep your race from voting.”

Dr. Belsaw conducted down to the registration office another Negro, who informed the registrar that he wished to register under the property clause. The registrar said: “Do you own

$300 worth of real estate?” The applicant replied: “Yes, sir.” Said the registrar: “Well, how do I know you have?” The registrant answered, “I can show you my deed.” The registrar: “That doesn’t mean anything—it might be mortgaged.” Applicant:

| “Well, I can go over here and get the records and show you there’s no mortgage—it’s mine.” Registrar: “Aw, I haven’t got

NEGRO REGISTRATION 299 any time for that—get out of line.” The applicants for registra-

tion in Alabama, it should be noted, can take their option of the several ways of qualifying for registration. It is said that this same registrar informed a local citizen in Mobile that the reason he was not registering Negroes was because “every nigger that registered becomes a Holcome nigger, and I’m against him.” Holcome is the local machine boss. In Mobile the only endorsement requirement is that of one qualified voter, and this endorser may be either white or Negro. However a registrant qualifies, the character witness must be produced.

Buford Boone, an editor, gives in an unpublished article a

graphic description of the experience of one Negro at a Georgia registration office:

Take Ed Drummond, for instance. He’s a young Georgia Negro who attended school long enough to hear a suggestion that, to be a good citizen, the Negro should take an interest in his government. And he heard that no citizen can be genuinely interested in his government unless he exercises the right of franchise. Drummond reaches 21 and decides to register and vote.

He goes to the awesome courthouse, where the tribunals erind away most of the time they are in session on cases against Negroes. He’s a little ill at ease, because some message from the cautiousness and meekness which have been instilled in his being tells him he may not be doing quite the right thing. But it’s too late to turn back. “What do you want, boy?” someone on the inside of the tax collector’s office asks. “I just want to register so I can vote.” Then he gets the works. Since he’s only 21, he doesn’t have to pay poll tax. He says he has no criminal record—so far, so good. But wait.

“Do you understand the duties and obligations of citizenship under a republican form of government?” he hears. “What do you mean by that?” “Just what I said. Do you or don’t you?” “I don’t know exactly... .”

“Well, do you own forty acres of land or $500 worth of property?” “No-sir.”

And if that isn’t enough to discourage the applicant, he gets another test. He is required to read correctly any section

300 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

of the Georgia or federal constitution, or he may be required to write any section when it is read to him. The man behind the counter is the sole judge of his success or failure. Usually the decision is negative. “You can’t qualify,” he is told. A Negro graduate of Harvard

University heard the same verdict in a Southern state a few years ago.

While there is no obstruction to the registration of Negroes in Atlanta, a spirit of intimidation is evident in some Georgia counties. It is felt that Negroes in a small county where the racial patterns are fixed would find shotgun parades, and so forth, if they tried to register in significant numbers. John W. Dobbs, a black political leader in Atlanta, estimates that there are approximately 2,100 Negroes registered in the city as of 1939. In 1936 there were less than 1,000. The incumbent tax collector of Fulton County has been very fair about Negro registration, as was his predecessor. The Atlanta Civic and Political League was organized at a mass meeting held on Lincoln’s birthday in 1936. The stated objectives of the league, which in recent years has been the most

active Negro protest organization, are as follows: (1) to get ten thousand Negroes registered; (2) equalization of teachers’ salaries; (3) appointment of Negro policemen and firemen; (4) appointment of Negro physicians and nurses in the city hospital; and (5) more parks and playgrounds for Negroes. The

leadership of the league considers one of its most effective achievements to be the publication of a report worked up by a

fact-finding committee detailing the discriminations against Negroes in Atlanta. The league contributed its support to the defeat of a bond issue to raise Atlanta’s contribution to a WPA civic improvement program in 1938. The league opposed the

issue because only a small sum had been allocated for Negro schools. The bond issue was voted down by a narrow margin, and the Negro vote, inspired to opposition by the league, was an important factor. On one occasion, when the league was holding a mass meeting in a Negro church, several cars full of un-

hooded white men attempted to intimidate the meeting by charging that Negroes were hatching a plot against the white people. The police were called and the whites were dispersed.® 6. This paragraph is comprised of statements from Ralph J. Bunche, “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, and Achievements of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations” (1940), pp. 609—11. —Ep.,

NEGRO REGISTRATION 301 In an interview on 4 November 1939, Miss Josephine Wilkins, president of the Georgia League of Women Voters, expressed doubt that the registration of a large number of Negroes in Georgia would serve to break the white primary unless there

were very special circumstances, such as the allegation of fraud. It is her opinion that if the white candidate broke the gentleman’s agreement and ran in the general election, he would have no standing in his party and, except for very special circumstances, could not carry his white vote, obtained in the primary, to the general election. Ben Davis, a former Negro national Republican committeeman from Georgia, thinks that the white primary can be broken only if Negroes register “in such large numbers as to make whites bid for the Negro vote.” Until quite recently, there has been no difficulty in registration for Negroes in Savannah, Georgia. Until the appearance of the Young Men’s Civic Club, Negro registration in Savannah fluctuated between 500 and 1,100 names, though it is estimated

that the Negro registration should be in the neighborhood of 15,000. After the YMCC became active, Negroes began to be subjected to a requirement making them recite provisions of the constitution in order to qualify. In Savannah the only active Negro organization with a political purpose is the YMCC. Organized in October 1938, under the leadership of a young working-class Negro, it has as its sole purpose the registration of Negroes for voting. The organization is somewhat unique among Negro reform groups because its leadership is not selected from the elite and because its initial efforts were directed toward enlisting the support of the local Negro longshore-

men’s union in its registration campaign. In the words of George Fuller, its president: We had about thirty people in attendance at our first meet-

ing. ... We selected representatives to appear before all organizations with our message. We set up a registration committee. Then we set up districts and put out handbills two or three days in advance, announcing meetings in the several districts. On the day of the meeting we would take a band down to the meeting hall. We covered the city like this and got good crowds—-250 to 300 in each district. Then we held general mass meetings in one of the Negro theaters. From the outset we stuck to one objective—registration of Negro voters. We held meetings once a week in each district—in churches, poolrooms, anywhere. Negro registration here is

302 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

now about 700 [an increase of some 300]... . We have set up

an institute for the purpose of training our people how to qualify, and we don’t let anyone go down [to the registrar] now until they have been through us.”

The Savannah registration list completed for use in the 1940 , state primary and general election listed 729 Negroes and 14,395 whites, or a total of 15,124 registered voters. The tax collector estimates that about 35 percent of this total are women. He informed Stoney that he makes no difference in the

registration of whites and Negroes. This does not seem to be borne out by the facts, however, for he declares: “We never had much trouble until two years ago. A bunch of them came up. Some of them looked like they were 35 or 40, saying they were 21. A lot of them got by before we caught up with it.” Fol-

lowing this episode, he began requiring that Negroes show some proof of age—an insurance policy, a birth certificate, or a copy of a school certificate—and he claims that “this stopped the big rush. Niggers aren’t going to pay poll tax to vote.” Otherwise, he says, there is no difference in treatment, for “we're not allowed to make any difference.” The explanation given to Dr. Myrdal for the registration of

so many whites and of so few Negroes is that: (1) whites are better off, more responsible (and thus can better afford to pay

the poll tax), and have more interest in doing so; (2) more whites were soldiers in the World War or had ancestors in former wars; (3) whites have more property, and thus the poll tax is more easily collected; (4) whites, on the whole, are better educated and can meet the education tests better. The tax collector admitted that the education test is not always necessary with whites, because more whites have property assessed at five hundred dollars, more whites are veterans or descendants of veterans, and more whites are known to be of good character.®

The tax collector indicated the significance of the Constitutional reading and writing test with regard to any attempt by a large number of Negroes to register in Savannah, pointing out that one’s ability to fulfill that requirement “depends upon the speed with which you read,” explaining: “If I read a long paragraph as fast as I can read, I bet you can’t write it.” The tax collector felt that these methods of keeping any large number of 7. From ibid., p. 607. —Ep. 8. Gunnar Myrdal’s interview with John Cabell, tax collector, Savannah, Georgia, 1 November 1939.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 303 Negroes away from the polls would hold up, first because of the

effectiveness of the speedy reading technique, and secondly, because, as he explained it: “These middle-class, upper-class Negroes have the same contempt for the lower-class Negroes as we do. They don’t want them to have the vote. There are class differences in the white society, but nothing like the stratification in the Negro community.”

It is well known in Savannah that the tax collector does

“make things a little hard” on Negroes, although the chairman

of the board of registrars, a Jew and a Republican, said to Stoney: “Every darky that’s really entitled to vote is on that list.” , He added that any Negro who can read the oath, who can write his own name, who can furnish proof of age and some proof of residence, and who has all poll taxes paid can get registered in

Savannah. The tax collector, however, does make Negroes certify their age more often than others, refuses to register those who cannot read and write (while white illiterates are allowed

to register because of the grandfather clause), and refuses to grant concessions on poll taxes to Negroes. On some occasions, asserts George Fuller, the registrar has required the applicants to read a paragraph of the constitution, commit it to memory, and repeat it to him with the book in his hand. In Darien, Georgia, there has been considerable difficulty for Negroes, due to what are called the “tricks.” For instance, until

a few years ago, anyone was allowed to register in McIntosh County who paid three dollars in back poll taxes. The Negro school principal had taken a good many Negroes up and had them registered by paying the three dollars. When election time came, the names of these people were often not on the list. The registrars had ruled them ineligible because they had not paid

up all back poll taxes. ,

In Macon, Georgia, in the spring of 1939, there were only 37 Negroes registered. In November 1939, as a result of some organizational activity, there were 320 Negroes registered in the city and a total of 450 in the county. About 80 percent of these were women. It is said that it was difficult to get Negroes regis-

tered, not because of white opposition, but because of the apathy and inertness of the Negro population itself. For the city registration, the books are open only every other year, and the period of registration is from January 1 to April 15. The county books are always open. The white primary has been a discouraging factor to Negro registration. Negroes have feared that they

would have trouble if they went to register. They were afraid

304 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

that the whites would come out to investigate homes, property, and so on. The tax collector of Bibb County explained that the qualification which requires the reading and writing of the Constitution for registration in Georgia is not so simple, because he requires a “reasonable definition.” He commented: “I can keep the president of the United States from registering in Macon if I want to.” As an example, he referred to the Supreme Court

jurisdiction clause of the Constitution (Article III) and explained: “God himself couldn’t understand that. I myself is the judge. .. . It must be written to my satisfaction.” The tax col-

lector warned: “If we didn’t have a law to stop niggers from registering, we should have to make one.” In Macon County few Negroes have applied to the tax collector for registration in recent years. The tax collector admits that Negroes are the only people to whom he applies the literacy test. He has Negro applicants read the oath, but he does not recall turning down anyone. The tax collector of Burke County estimates that there are eighteen Negroes qualified to vote in the general election in that county. There is a difference between the treatment of Negroes and whites in registration for voting. Negroes are required to be able to read the oath themselves and to sign their own names, though these requirements are not made of whites. Three Negroes have applied for registration in Burke County since 1938,

when the present tax commissioner assumed office upon the death of her husband. All three of these Negro applicants have been professional men. It is said that Negroes in this county are not required to have property if they can pass the literacy test. The tax collector claims to be at a loss to explain why more Negroes do not register. People may register without paying the poll tax. Voting among women of both races has been slow since

something of a rush in the middle 1920s. Another member of the board estimates that there are twenty-eight rather than eighteen Negro voters in the county. “They aren’t interested in voting here,” he added, and most of them have never tried. Since 1928 this registrar has not heard of any Negro applicant’s being turned down, and he feels that voting in the cotton elections is

“making them think about it more,” though certainly this has not been shown in the number registered thus far. It is said that Negroes have no trouble in registering for the general election in Statesboro, Georgia, and that about a hundred are on the registration books, as compared with three

NEGRO REGISTRATION 305 thousand whites. Negroes cannot vote in the Democratic primary. White candidates make no bid for the Negro vote since | they do not need it in the general election. Nor is there any bid for the Negro voté in local bond issue elections. In 1938, for example, a fifty-thousand-dollar bond issue was voted in Statesboro for paving streets and for building a white gymnasium, and the Negroes in town did not know anything about it. Even the Negro property owners did not go to the polls. Dr. Van Buren, a staunch Republican, thinks that Negroes can break into the white primary only as a result of bloodshed or some such drastic action. There are thirty thousand people in the county, fourteen

thousand of whom are Negro. The registrants are designated by race on the registration roll. There have never been more than fifty Negroes voting. These Negro voters are the “old timers.” During the eight years in which the present tax collector has held office, only about fifteen Negroes have been registered. Since the poll taxes are collected only when there are property taxes to be paid, a number of Negroes have paid the poll taxes without registering.®

In Hall County, according to the tax collector, Negroes are registered just as whites are. The literacy and property tests are not administered to them. Very few Negroes now register, however. The tax collector estimates that fewer than ten have registered since 1930, when he assumed office. The reason for this lack of Negro registration is said to be the white primary, which bars Negroes from participation in any important election. It is also pointed out that there would be a “great deal of bad feeling” if Negroes should try to vote in any but the general election. Since the candidates bear all expenses for the primary, they have no difficulty in keeping the Negro out of them. There are three Negroes registered in the Shiloh district of Greene County, and they all vote, but a justice of the peace adds: “That don’t make no difference. They can’t vote in the primary. Not in my day, you won’t see it.” Three Negroes are registered in the White Plane district for general elections, but they seldom come to vote. White Plane is one of the best farming sections in Greene County, and most of the farming is still done on fairly large plantations with Negro croppers. The justice

of the peace of White Plane thinks that if the poll tax were repealed, more Negroes would try to vote. Even if they can vote 9. Myrdal’s interview with the tax collector, Statesboro, Georgia, 2 November 1939.

306 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

only in the general election, he thinks that it is dangerous, for the New Deal Democrats or some other “radical” group could run a separate ticket in the general election, and with the “reliefers” and the other “out-for-all-they-can-getters,” they could get a majority in Georgia. Then chaos would break loose, for “the class of people we’ve got in elections now is bad enough— the class of white people, I mean.”

In Greensboro, the county seat of Greene County and the largest town in the county, the names of five Negro men appeared on the 1939 voting list. No Negro names appear on the 1940 list because it was made up for the Democratic primary. A Negro farmer near Greensboro who has been on his 165-acre farm for thirty-two years used to vote but does not bother now, for, he states, when he goes to pay his poll tax and tells the registrar he wants to register, he is told: “You don’t need to register.” According to the registration roll in Johnson County as compiled for the fall, 1940, primary and general elections, there are 2,196 white males and 2,094 white females, or a total of 4,290

whites registered, as against 11 Negro males and 2 Negro females. These 13 Negro registrants are listed as from Bray district. Those Negroes on the rolls and identified as Negroes are listed as “Mr.” Negroes from Wrightsville and one or two other places are not identified as Negroes on the registration

rolls. The total black registered vote in Johnson County by general estimate is about thirty. The Johnson County tax collector says very few Negroes register and that those who do are

generally applicants for some kind of state or federal job requiring registration. He states that he registers these Negro applicants “like anybody else.” There are no serious efforts to keep Negroes from registering for the general elections in Augusta. Chairs are even provided for Negro registration workers during the days that the books are open, so that Negroes may be encouraged to vote by their own race as they come in and go out of the courthouse. But the

Democratic primaries are for whites only, and unless independent candidates run, the Negro vote in the general election following the primary counts for nothing. According to an unpublished survey recently made, from 1914 to 1936 there were 804 registered male Negro voters in Augusta. Approximately 154 of these are dead and 57 others out of town, leaving 593 registered Negroes in 1936. In July 1939, 210 were actually eligible to vote. Between 1920 and 1936 there were 442 registered Negro women voters in Augusta. The number who have not paid

NEGRO REGISTRATION 307 taxes or have left town or have died is 301. According to the Augusta Chronicle, 372 Negroes are now eligible to vote.’° The tax collector of Ware County declares that the only difference in treatment between whites and blacks in the registra-

tion process is that all Negroes are required to come in in person to register and to sign the book. They must sign it them-

selves, so that the tax collector can “see they can write.” If whites cannot sign, on the other hand, the tax collector will sign for them, A member of the county board states that at the time of the last general election there were approximately three hundred Negroes registered in Ware County.

The most recent state to abandon the poll tax is Florida. When the necessity for paying the annual levy as a prerequisite to voting was swept away, Negro registration began to increase. When a city election came up in Miami in May 1939, the city had the largest number of Negroes in history on its voting lists.

Resentment flared up in hostile demonstrations that had the Miami police department’s nerves on edge for two or three days.

On the night before the election, hooded riders in automobiles with hidden license plates patrolled the principal Negro residential sections. The robed men, identified as members of the Ku Klux Klan, put the torch to oil-drenched crosses on street corners. Nooses dangled menacingly from automobile windows and one dummy was strung up bearing a sign, “This nigger voted.” But the Miami Negroes were not intimidated. Under adequate police protection, more than a thousand went to the polls and

voted. Separate booths and boxes were set up for them, but when the ballots were counted, the public learned that the Negroes had voted just about the same as their white brothers. There was no disorder at the polls. According to the city registrar, the approximate number of Negroes registered for city elections is 1,050. The registrar of Dade County estimates that, as of 4 November 1940, there are 1,947 Negro registrants in the county, as compared with 54,347 whites. For some twenty years only 50 Negroes had been registered voters in Miami, but with the active campaigns staged by

the new Negro leadership a great increase in Negro registration occurred last year. According to Samuel Solomon, who sparked the campaign to get Negroes to the polls, the Negro leaders appealed to the Ministerial Alliance of Miami and prolode. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews, Augusta, Georgia, February

308 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

vided the ministers with cars so that it would be relatively easy

for them to go to the polls. Sam Solomon, a young Negro undertaker, heads the Negro Republican Club of Dade County, Incorporated, which claims between three and four hundred members. Its main purpose is to register Negroes as Republicans. Negro women affiliated with this group organized a corps of “Good Morning; have you registered Republican?” boosters. Solomon attracted nationwide attention in 1939 by defying the threats of the Ku Klux Klan and leading Negro voters to the polls. Qn 9 March 1940, he sent out the following letter on the stationery of the Negro Republican Club. It was entitled “A Personal Letter to You from Sam B. Solomon.”

. .. when I returned here I thought at least 5,000 of you would have registered; instead I found less than 2,000 had registered to vote in the coming election, You know I am willing to fight for you, your rights and privileges. But what can

I do when the names are not recorded on the registration books to back me up?

If my people do not go to the ground floor of the Court House and register, I'll be a foolish man to open my mouth —no matter what happens to you. This is not my fight alone. You must help me. Do me this favor: Register at once if you have not. Have every person in your house register, all of your employees and friends. If you do not register 10,000 strong, I'll have to give up the

fight for the rights of Negro people.

What is your answer? Let me know, please. Yours for greater opportunities for Negroes.”

There are some prominent white citizens in Miami who openly encourage Negro voting. For example, an editorial in the Miami Herald of 12 May 1939, reads: “Miami’s elections are

conducted on a nonpartisan basis and under these circumstances, a negro cannot be excluded from voting.” The editorial and news columns of the Herald following the municipal elec11. The description of Negro registration in Florida is based on Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews conducted in 1940. --Ep. 12, This paragraph is taken from Bunche’s “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, and Achievements of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” pp. 616-17. —-Ep,

NEGRO REGISTRATION 309 tions of 1939 were highly sympathetic to the efforts of the Negro leaders. A columnist in the Herald wrote on 10 May 1939:

During the unlamented city election campaign, some of the candidates and their henchmen accused me of wanting

to clean up slum conditions in Negro town as a gesture toward getting the Negro vote for candidates who bore the Herald endorsement. The gentlemen who made those assertions knew better, of course. ... As long as the slums are allowed to remain ignored in Negro town, just so long will the threat of epidemics hover over the whole Miami area.

According to Solomon, some white employers would call him up during the campaign to get the Negro voters registered, to check as to whether their domestic servants were registered to vote, and to assure him that they were doing their part to get them to register. Figures obtained in the office of the supervisor of registration

| for Duval County in 1934 indicate that there were 487 Negroes registered as Republicans and 587 registered as Independents, or a total of 1,074 registered Negroes in the county. This, as against 34,100 whites registered as Democrats, 425 whites registered as Republicans, 188 as Independents, 2 as Socialists, and 1 as Prohibitionist. At that same time, there were 24,825 whites qualified to vote as against 582 Negroes. In 1936 there were 1,624 Negroes registered as against 46,274 whites. In 1938, fol-

lowing the repeal of the poll tax qualification, 47,110 white Democrats were registered, 325 white Republicans, and 41 white Independents, as against 8,105 Negro Republicans and 1,076 Negro Independents.

There seems to be a great deal of interest in voting among Jacksonville Negroes, and intensive campaigns urging Negroes to register for voting are sponsored by and conducted by Negro organizations and leaders. The editor of the white Jacksonville Journal openly urges Negroes to get out and vote. As a result of this, he has lost a good deal of advertisement in his paper and some of his circulation. He seems to be generally sympathetic toward labor and minority groups. In an interview on 27 February 1940 he said: “I’ve been called a Communist because I speak in Negro churches and before Negro groups on such problems as slum clearance, organizing into unions, registering, and voting.” A white woman, Mrs. F. W. Traynor, is active in efforts to get out the Negro vote. She states: “I’ve always be-

310 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY lieved Negroes should vote, and I feel they haven’t because they

didn’t know that they could. I tell those with whom I come in contact to vote because that’s the only way in which they kin get their rights. No, I don’t publicly urge them to do so.”

Although the registration of Negroes in Jacksonville is now heavy, it was not very great in previous years due to the poll tax requirement, which was two dollars a year and cumulative for two years. Now, however, although the Negro registration is heavy, Negroes do not vote in significant numbers because of the lily-white primary. The supervisor of registration for Duval County informed Miss Jackson that “Negroes are all of them Republicans in Florida, not Democrats.” Several Negroes claim that on various occasions they were told that Negroes are not allowed to be Democrats in Florida. Because of the heavy Negro registration of 1938 in Jacksonville, the precinct lines were changed, and considerable confu-

sion was evidenced among the potential voters of both races when they came into the office of the election officials to find out where they must go to register. The registrar himself was observed to be confused, because on each of these inquiries he or

his secretary had to go into a huddle over the map to find out where certain street locations placed a voter. Miss Jackson noted that the Negroes were accorded polite answers by the supervisor and his secretary. Perhaps the most important attempt to break through the lilywhite Democratic setup in Florida took form in the Sylvaneus Hart case of 1934. Hart petitioned the fourth judicial circuit court of Florida for a writ of mandamus to compel the registrar to register him as a Democrat. The court’s ruling was negative, on the ground that: “The State Executive Committee of each political party may, by resolution, declare the terms and conditions on which legal electors shall be declared and become mem-

bers of the party preparatory to voting in the party primary.” Since this case, according to Leonard Lewis, Hart’s attorney, no further attempt has been made to break the exclusive policy of the Democratic party in Florida. Fewer than five hundred Negroes are registered in St. Augustine, Florida, although the 1930 census lists 2,111 Negroes over the age of twenty-one. The city government in St. Augustine is nonpartisan, and this affords the Negro an opportunity to participate in municipal elections. In 1939 a contest was sponsored by the Negro Civic Alliance of St. Augustine in an effort to interest young Negroes in political participation. Prizes of

NEGRO REGISTRATION 311 from five to twenty-five dollars were offered to Negro youths who

would bring in the most registration certificates. As a result of this campaign, some 250 additional Negro names were added to the registration books. The Civic Alliance also devoted itself to a campaign to interest preachers in the organization of a minis-

terial alliance which would aid in the registration movement. The Negro population is concentrated in the fourth ward, and, according to the figures obtained from the office of the city

registrar, there were 577 registrations in the fourth ward in March 1939. The voting booth for the fourth ward in St. Augustine is located in the office of Mr. Butler, president of the Civic Alliance,

and he states that both whites and Negroes come in and vote

together quite harmoniously. The voting booth for precinct 19 , in the county and state elections is also located in his office.

In St. Petersburg there were 20,136 registered voters as of 15 August 1939. Of this number, 723 were Negroes. The largest

Negro representation was in precinct six, in which there were 420 Negro registrants out of a total of 3,835. According to the 1930 census, there were 40,425 people in St. Petersburg, of whom 7,416 were Negroes. In Orlando, Florida, the Negro registration is very low. There

are not more than 80 Negroes registered out of the 4,700 Ne-

groes over twenty-one, according to the 1930 census. The Orange County Tax Payers’ and Voters’ League, which has existed for only one year, is attempting to get Negroes registered and is offering a five dollar reward to the pastor who gets the greatest number of people registered. Negroes in Orlando claim to feel repercussions of the trouble about black voting which occurred in Miami in 1939, and the whites are giving evidence of hostility toward Negro political participation. For the Tampa city elections of 1939, 1,330 Negroes were registered. Some Tampa Negro leaders have waged a vigorous registration campaign since then, and it is estimated that some 2,900 Negroes are now registered to vote for the general election of 1940. Negroes vote in the municipal general elections as well as the congressional and presidential contests. It is only in recent years that Tampa Negroes have begun to evidence an

interest in voting, and this appears to be due to the insistent urging of their leaders, especially those in the NAACP headed by President Strachan. It is said that in 1934 scarcely a hundred Negroes were voting in Tampa. Some white citizens in Florida, mainly members of trade unions acting through their

312 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

community medium, the Community Improvement League, urge Negroes to vote in Tampa. In New Orleans, Louisiana, Negroes have had considerable difficulty in getting registered, One prominent New Orleans Negro, in his first effort to register there, was told by the clerk that he had miscalculated his age because he had computed the age

without considering whether February had twenty-eight or twenty-nine days. On another occasion, this same Negro—although he had registered on three previous occasions—was turned down at the registration office four consecutive times. On the fifth time, a white clerk who knew him let him register without difficulty. In the 1936 registration period in New Orleans three Negro members of the executive committee of the NAACP attempted to register and were turned down because of incorrectly filling

out their cards. These men went to a Negro lawyer and filed mandamus proceedings. As soon as the cases were filed, the registrar called the lawyer and told him that his clients could be registered without going through with the court case. The Negroes, however, told their lawyer that they preferred to fight the case through, though none of them had sufficient money for it. Later, the assistant attorney general called the lawyer and arranged a conference with the parties in the case. In that conference this Negro lawyer, who is now deceased, was threat-

ened, and his Negro clients thought it necessary to protect his career. They conferred with the registrar and told him that they were interested in getting Negroes registered. He then promised that after the primary he would register all “intelligent Negroes” that would be selected and sent to him. On the whole, however,

the professional and business Negroes of New Orleans were not greatly interested. Immediately after the primary the registrar asked the NAACP leaders: “That we not embarrass his office by bringing too many Negroes from any one ward—that we distribute them among wards, We brought 21 to his office and he registered only five.” The secretary of the newly organized Urban League in New Orleans failed several times in his efforts to register in 1935. On one occasion, a druggist promised to see the white ward leader about the matter and to try to get a note from him which would permit registration. This note was obtained and was addressed to the registration clerk for that ward. The note read: “Register this man, he is with us.” When the Urban League secretary went

to register, however, the clerk for that particular ward was ill,

NEGRO REGISTRATION 313 and the man who was in his place “suggested that I come back to register at a date in February, which was after the election. I told him there would be no need of registering then. I went back several times and the same man was there, so never got regis-

tered.” One flagrant instance of failure to register a Negro in New Orleans is that of a young Negro college student who stood in the registration line behind a white person who did not know how to fill out his registration card. The Negro helped him fill it

out, and the white man was registered while the Negro was

turned down. A Negro pastor in New Orleans attempted to register more than a dozen times in one year without success. He was deter-

mined to register, however, and continued to go back to the registration office. On one of the occasions, while waiting for his

turn, he saw one of the clerks take out a card and fill it out completely for a white applicant. When the Negro minister filled his card out, the clerk threw it back to him as “wrong.” The minister then spoke very loudly and exclaimed: “Do you mean to tell me that you turned me down after you have just filled out this white man’s card without him touching a pen?” The Negro had spoken so loudly that the attention of a police-

man was attracted and the minister related his story to the officer. Surprisingly, the clerk admitted that he had filled out the card for the white applicant, and the officer then said: “This man has something on you, and you had better register him.” The minister was then registered.

A New Orleans Negro, who resembles a white man and is employed in the department of public welfare, went into the registrar’s office in the fall of 1939 to register. He filled out his card and returned it to the clerk, who hurriedly checked it, wrote out his registration certificate, and handed him the book to sign. Just as the Negro began to sign his name on the register, the clerk jerked the book from him and said: “There’s a mistake here. You can’t register. You’ve made an error.” The clerk ap-

parently had at the last minute seen the telltale designation “colored” on the man’s card.

A. P. Tureaud, a Negro lawyer in New Orleans, was refused registration there in 1934. He described his experience in an interview on 14 November 1939:

The deputy registrar of voters of the seventh ward had me fill out an application. When I did so, he looked at it and said, “It’s wrong,” and tried to retain it, but I snatched it out

314 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

of his hand and called a policeman to whom I told what had happened. The clerk then refused to give me another card. I went to Mr. Gregory [the registrar] and he came out with me until I filled out another card, and then I was told that that also was “wrong.” I returned to the office the next day and the same thing happened. I again saw Mr. Gregory and told him that he had better register me or I would mandamus him. Gregory told the clerk to give me another card and go ahead and register me. Later, I endorsed a note for this clerk and he told me: “You know, Tureaud, I don’t want to do this to you. I know you can qualify if anybody can, but we have to do this on orders from above.”

In New Orleans it is possible for a few prominent Negro leaders, who are in the good graces of the white population, to get a few Negroes registered. This is on a purely personal basis, however. As a Negro physician puts it:

There is wide belief among whites here that the Negro is

not prepared to exercise the rights of citizenship. This is based on the concept of the Negro which whites have gained through their experience with Negro domestics. So, when I

say to the white registrar that a particular Negro is not of this type, they will register him. In Opelousas, St. Landry Parish, Louisiana, two Negro doctors—Dr. Terrence and Dr. Donatto—attempted to register prior to the election for parish officers. This was after the repeal of the poll tax in Louisiana in 1934. The registrar, Paul Fonte-

not, sent them to the sheriff’s office. The sheriff, in turn, sent them to the judge of the circuit court, who sent them back to the sheriff. When they went back to the sheriff’s office, one of the sheriff’s deputies gave them a long lecture, telling them how long he had known them and how anxious he was that they would not get into any “trouble.” The sheriff told them that he would issue poll tax receipts if they got registration certificates. They obtained the required registration certificates from the registrar, but the sheriff insisted that he had no authority to grant them poll receipts. The following day, a young Negro elec-

~ trician named John Deshotel attempted to register and was bloodily beaten in the sheriff's office." 13, This incident and those in Louisiana that follow are based on James Jackson’s field notes, February 1940.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 315 These two physicians had no organization, but were merely acting on the supposition that Huey Long’s statement that anyone in Louisiana could vote applied to them also. After Deshotel was beaten up, the two doctors—as well as Deshotel—made no further efforts to register. Deshotel was the target for the sheriff’s attack rather than the two doctors because he was relatively

unknown and was not a very important figure in the community, whereas the two Negro physicians had large personal _ followings and a violent attack on them might have resulted in stirring up the Negro community. This is said to have been the last effort of Negroes to vote in St. Landry Parish. The county

clerk of the parish and the Opelousas tax assessor informed James Jackson that there were no Negroes registered to vote in St. Landry Parish. The registrar of voters in Baton Rouge allegedly makes it very embarrassing for Negroes to register. He has the privilege under

the law—the understanding clause—to ask any question he wants to ask. One Negro leader in the Baton Rouge community declares: I don’t know of anyone here who has had any trouble regis-

tering—such a relatively few have attempted to—but it is common knowledge that no Negro will be allowed to vote in Port Allen [a town in West Baton Rouge Parish]. A man told me that when he went up to register, the registrar said to him: “Now, listen, boy, if you just insist on registering, [ll register you. You got a right under the law, but I tell you, you've got to live here, and you'll be pointed out as an uppity nigger. So, if I was you, I'd forget it. Besides, your one vote won’t count none nohow—don’t you Know I would lose my job if I let a

whole lot of Negroes register? ''d register you and maybe

two or three others, but it won’t get you nowhere. So, why

don’t you forget it, huh?”

It is said that there are very few parishes in the state of Louisiana where Negroes are allowed to register. Only in the two or three large cities are they permitted to register without difficulty.

In North Carolina, the North Carolina Committee on Negro Affairs is the most active organization on behalf of Negroes.

This all-Negro association, organized in Durham in March 1936, has branches in Charlotte, Greensboro, Winston-Salem, Raleigh, and Durham. It is a mild pressure group, and its first

316 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

meeting, called just before a Democratic primary in the state, had as its keynote the larger participation of Negroes in the election campaign. It began with a strong political consciousness, as

indicated by the following statement: “There was an apparent common understanding that politics, whether local or national, exerts a more or less dominating influence over the recognized sacred rights of all men.” Since its inception, the organization has broadened its program to include a fourfold objective—the improvement of the educational, economic, socio-civic, and po-

litical welfare of the Negro in the state. In politics efforts are made to stimulate the exercise of the franchise by Negroes, to encourage the registration of qualified black citizens for participation in the various elections, and “to centralize all civic organizations throughout the state by encouraging affiliation with the North Carolina Committee on Negro Affairs, to the end that the Negroes of North Carolina will present a solid front for the solution of our common problems.”

At the present time Negroes in Durham encounter no diffculty in registering. But there have been instances in the past when registrars gave Negroes considerable trouble in registering. For example, the Durham Sun published stories in 1933 concerning the attempts of Negroes to gain the removal of a city registrar. The articles relate that the Legal Redress Commit-

tee of the League of Independent Voters informed Chairman Purcell of the Durham County board of elections that J. E. Polk,

registrar for East Durham, discriminated against Negroes attempting to register in that area. Registrar Polk required only Negroes to read, write, and interpret long sections of the Consti-

tution. Polk was openly antagonistic toward the protest of the Negroes and had M. Hugh Thompson, a Negro attorney who was protesting the registration procedure, forcibly ejected from the precinct. Subsequently, Polk was removed, and Durham Negroes have had no great difficulty in registering since.

It is said now in Durham that the present registrar is so obliging that he brings his registration book up to the office of the North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance Company and registers its Negro officials at their desks. Of the 11,302 Negroes of voting

age in Durham, approximately 3,000 are registered. Only approximate figures can be given, because separate registration 14. From Bunche, “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, and Achievemens —ED. of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” pp. 597-98.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 317 lists or racial identifications do not exist. The total city registra-

tion in 1939 was 22,815. According to a city hall list for Greensboro, 291 Negroes were

registered voters in 1935. It is variously estimated that at present there are anywhere from 810 to 1,002 Negroes registered. It is claimed that an old white man who was registrar in precinct five even goes up and down the streets registering Negroes and

helping them to write their names. This is quite a different story from that told by Watson Law, who relates that in Greensboro in 1909, after he had read and interpreted the constitution, which “I’d studied for a long time, I forgot to cross my ‘t’ and dot

my ‘i in equity and they threw it out. [ll never forgit the word

equity—never. I went back, though, and they finally registered me.” When Wilhelmina Jackson visited the chairman of the county board of elections, in an effort to get figures on Nesro registration, she was told that: “There hasn’t been a registration in so long here, that I guess we have more dead people voting in Greensboro than any place else in the state.”

Several means of refusing registration to Negroes of all classes have been used at Winston-Salem, and this over a long period. It is said that when the authorities are challenged, a few Negroes are registered. But when they are not challenged, even though many Negroes may appear for registration, few are accepted. The result is that relatively few Negroes now attempt to register. For example, the editor of the “Colored Notes” section of a Winston daily told the following story:

When I came back to Winston in 1917, the registrar refused to register me, and so made a speech: “I have just returned from the war, fighting for democracy and now I come here, and democracy in its elemental form—the vote— is denied. Oh, no! I wasn’t scared over there and now I’m not scared, and I’m here to stay until you register me.” Another Negro—a local businessman—complained: They wouldn’t allow my dortor to vote—I rushed down there and told the blame fool that he never would have as much sense as my dortor and that he better let her vote. When

she went back, one of those red-faced crackers said to her, 15. All of the material pertaining to North Carolina in this chapter is based on Wilhelmina Jackson’s field notes, November and December

1939. :

318 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

“Ain’t you the same girl that was here this morning?” The other snapped out, “Let the girl register.” I was so mad then that I decided to stay and help others of my race get through. I stood in the door and one of them came up to me and told told me to move. “Move,” I said. “And you a paid servant of mine—not on your life.”

A white physician in Winston-Salem recalled that several years ago, during registration, a Negro woman was standing in line in front of him. When she got up to the registrar’s desk, the official immediately asked her whether she knew the secretary of the local chamber of commerce, and when she said “no, the registrar thereupon informed her that she could not register. According to the white physician: My blood boiled. I reached over her and said “see here, I don’t know that man and you better register me. But Pll ‘know’

because ’'m a white man. It’s no honor to know him, because

he’s nothing but a debauch and drunk. Let this woman register.”

And the woman was let through. A Negro labor union member was refused registration: “The registrar asked me to recite the Preamble of the Constitution. I knew that. I had been studying the Constitution for five or six weeks. I read it too fast for him, and then he ast me to write what I read. When I wouldn’t do it, he said: ‘Suit yourself.’ ”

A Negro woman, who has been a city school librarian for twenty years in Winston-Salem, was subjected to a severe test by the registrar. Here is her story: He asked me how old must a governor be? How are tax laws drawn up? And so forth. But I came home and went back. I failed again. This time he had the nerve to call me “dumb,” and I said, “If so, then your city has been paying me for twenty years for being so dumb.” Upon that he registered

me, cautioning me to be quiet. I wasn’t, but the hundred or so that I contacted to go and register did not even try.

A professor at the Winston-Salem Teachers College was refused registration at the last registration period. According.to the chairman of the Mecklenburg County board of elections, there are 25,000 people registered in Charlotte, and approximately one-fifth of this number are Negroes. The Negro voting population is concentrated in ward two, box two, where

NEGRO REGISTRATION . 319 1,404 people are registered; ward ten, box one, where 786 are registered; and ward eleven, where 1,574 are registered as of 8 November 1938. The chairman of the board says there are several hundred other Negro votes scattered throughout the

other wards. Many more Negroes are said to be trying to vote in Charleston, South Carolina, now than there were in the 1920s because

“the churches and preachers and the schools and all kinds of organizations are after them about their rights.” The Democratic party nationally is also lending encouragement to Negro voting, and the chairman of the board of registrars thinks this is bad and is opposed to it. He says that “most” of the Negroes in

Charleston County vote the Democratic ticket, but he insists that no Negroes in the county vote in the primaries or are members of the Democratic ward clubs. The most serious obstacle to the Negro vote in Charleston is the white primary. In most local elections all candidates are unopposed and Negroes take an attitude of “what’s the use?” The . poll tax, although small, is a serious handicap, because Negroes in general are too poorly paid to afford this assessment. Since only a small number of Negroes attempt to register, no serious effort is made to stop registration. No specific effort has been made on the part of either white or Negro groups to enlist the black vote in Charleston in a particular local campaign or on a

specific local issue. :

Mrs. Lucile D. King, the chairman of the Greenville County, South Carolina, board of registrars, complained: “We’ve had a lot of trouble about niggers registering. You must have read all about it in the papers. Yeah, Lord! It was a mess!” In explana-

tion, the chairman stated that a few “educated nigras” and “some white people, I think,” were back of it. She said the white

lawyer who played a leading role in this move to get Negroes registered was an ambitious young fellow who wanted to be mayor. So few people vote in the general election that he thought he could “slip in” and take the place. The people came to her be-

cause they had to have county registration certificates before they could get city ones. Nothing came of it all, she continued, because few voted and “they all voted one way.” “I let them register,’ she remarked, adding that she turned down two or three because they could not read and write. The Klan got after me too. You know that. Yeah. They had

two or three niggers out front showing them how to do—

320 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

you know theyre awfully ignorant about things like voting and all. So the Klan, they published warnings in the papers and they rode around this town like a circus parade. A federal man came here to see me about it about two months ago. He

asked me if they had bothered me. I told him exactly what happened. The day after the first group of Negroes came in, the chairman of the county board received a letter from a young lawyer in town warning her that she had better enforce the law strictly against Negroes. It told her to come to his office, where she would receive instructions. She called him up, told him her office was in the courthouse, and that he could come over there

if he wanted to see her. He did come, with another young lawyer. They had the law all typed out. She took them to the county attorney. He read their digest and told them that Mrs. King had this already, and that if the Negroes were qualified to register, she had to register them. And she observed: “And I did.”

Mrs. King noted that not more than 350 Negroes have come in to date, but that there was a “big fuss” about it up to the time of the city election in 1939. Since then she has had very few to apply. She said she expected a few more to be coming in before the presidential election. The general impression in Greenville is that Mrs. King has been “very fair” in her handling of Negro applicants, and there seems to have been little trouble in getting Negroes registered there. The city police of Greenville are said to work “hand in glove” with the Ku Klux Klan, and it is charged that most of the patrolmen are themselves members of the Klan. Quite significantly, one of the candidates for sheriff of Greenville County at the coming election is a known Klansman. Another candidate for the same office attempted to join the Klan, but the first candidate had him blackballed so that he would not split the Klan support. A local white lawyer states that he has had his own difficul-

ties with the KKK because of his activity in behalf of Negro registration in Greenville. During the registration of Negroes last summer, he says that he received several warnings from the Klan. It was the Klan, he asserts, which caused his previous landlord to make him move his law office. His last experience with the Klan was in court. He was defending a Negro and was examining the jury. He asked one prospective juror if he was a member of any organization having the suppression of Negroes

NEGRO REGISTRATION 321 as a part of its program. The judge interrupted, asking him to be plainer; so he asked the man if he was a Klansman. The judge quickly recessed the court and called the lawyer back into his office. The judge told him, “You don’t want to ask that question.” The lawyer answered: “If you were a Negro and were

being tried, wouldn’t you want to know if your jurors were Klansmen?” The judge did not answer, but warned him it would not be good for him if he asked that question. After the session, the lawyer was met in the corridor by a Klansman who attacked him with brass knuckles. He fought back. He was ar-

rested and charged with assault and battery, disturbing the peace, and trying to destroy public property. The case was

was “no billed.” ,

dropped. The lawyer then tried to sue his attacker but the case The president of the Better Government League in Greenville,

an enhusiastic student of suffrage and suffrage extension in politically apathetic Greenville, emphasized very pointedly the fact that his movement had nothing to do with the attempts of Negroes to register in Greenville in the summer of 1939. Most of this effort, he explained, was newspaper talk. He blamed the whole episode on two white men who, he said, wanted a group of “darky votes to control.” This is what would happen should more Negroes vote. He thought it better that “the darkies” take no part in the election. He does not think that the “better class”

of Negroes is interested in the vote, and the other Negroes would not be if white men did not get after them about it. A careful check of the general election registration books for all of the Greenville city wards (most of the Negroes in Greenville County live inside the city) and the books for about half of the Greenville County districts, including those with large Negro populations, revealed that only 324 Negroes had been

registered in the county from January 1938 through the enrolling days of June 1940. This figure has been variously reported by others, however, as from approximately 600 to as high as 900.

There is no legal requirement that race be indicated in the registration books in Greenville. But, because these same lists are used for making up jury lists, Negro voters are usually marked as such and, therefore, the lists are fairly dependable guides. In the Greenville registration books, all Negroes are identified clearly with a “col.” beside the name. The registrar in Greenville told Stoney that she believes that every registered

322 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Negro was identified, and she estimated that there were not more than 350 on the list. Of the 324 Negroes who were thus identified, 297 were from inside the city limits. In Columbia, South Carolina, there are two types of registration for voting. One is for the Democratic party primary:and is called the “club enrollment”; the other is for the general election. The names on the Democratic club roll can be used for the general election registration. This separate registration is a device

which keeps the Negro out of politics, since Negroes are not enrolled in the Democratic clubs. The Democratic party club roll for Columbia had 11,158 names in 1938. It was flatly stated

that this number did not include any Negro names. It was not possible to secure general registration figures, our investigator being told that it was necessary to obtain these when the general registration board is in session. However, leading Negro citizens of Columbia estimated that there are approximately

a thousand Negroes registered for the general election in Columbia—probably an overly optimistic estimate.‘ Some Negroes who present themselves for registration at Sumter are given a test. The chairman of the board of registrars states: “Most everyone [Negro| that comes in is either a school teacher or a preacher or some kind of a business person. We don’t ask them. .. . Some of the others, we do, but I don’t think we've turned down a half a dozen since I’ve been on the board.” In 1936 in Sumter there was a

big registration of darkies. It was for the president’s election, you know. I think mighty near all of them voted for Roosevelt, too. There were some from this Republican bunch too, I think. .. . Some people came in there when we were working and said: “You better be careful the way you register up all these niggers.” I told them that if a darky’s got the qualifications, the law says he shall register, so ’m going to regis-

ter him.

The chairman expressed the belief that some “school men” and some members of the Joseph W. Tolbert faction were encouraging Negroes to register. Since the 1938 registration books were open, however, not more than twenty Negroes have registered, according to the chairman of the board. Of all the names on the books between 1928 and 1938, when the new registration was 16. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews, January 1940.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 323 called, he estimated that not more than 450 or 500 were Negroes. Negroes are not identified on the registration books by race.

The chairman explains this by saying: “I thought about it, but the other board didn’t do it, so we haven’t been.” He explained that the jury commission could avoid taking Negroes for jury service even though Negroes are not identified by race on the registration books because there are enough people who look over the list before it is drawn from to make sure no Negro names get on it. He felt sure that no Negro had served on any but federal juries in Sumter County, because, in his opinion, no names of Negroes are put in the hat from which the names for jury service are drawn. Negroes have had no trouble in getting registered in Sumter in recent years. The willingness of the registrars to cooperate has been continued since the 1938 registration began. Most of the Negro vote, which is confined to the general election, comes

from the Negro college and from the Negro schoolteachers in Sumter. The treasurer of Pickens County is certain that there are not more than “six or seven” Negroes who have registration certifi-

cates in the whole county, and that three of these are in the town of Pickens. These three do not vote in the city general election, although they have that right. They are said to be Republicans and friends of “old man Marsh,” the former postmaster and white Republican who, according to the county treasurer, “is one of them Republicans a man can trust”—by which he meant, apparently, that Marsh stayed Republican after the 1932 landslide and has never tried to hide his political affiliation. Few Negroes ever vote in Pickens County. The chair-

man of the county board of registrars, who was appointed in 1938, has had only one Negro apply for a registration certificate. He received it. The others, she explained, either are not interested or “don’t know they can vote.” A few in town do know

it, but “don’t fool” with it. She explained that it is not the Negroes only who are illiterate. It is the mill people and the farm

people, too. Most of them come out of the hills, where the schools are bad now and where, twenty or thirty years ago, they were nonexistent. Negroes are reported to have no trouble in getting registered

in Newport News, Virginia. The main difficulty is to get Negroes interested. In 1928 there was a Negro block of 1,098

324 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

voters. Now it is estimated that there are between five and six hundred Negro voters. It is claimed that the Negro was able to exert real political pressure when there were a thousand black votes. As a result of this pressure, Newport News Negroes obtained a new elementary school. Even now, with only some five hundred votes, the white candidates are eager to get Negro support, but the Negro vote is not solid. Approximately 820 Negroes, as against approximately 5,600 whites, were registered in Newport News as of June 1939. In 1937, 5,781 whites paid their poll taxes, as against 826 Negroes.” As of 31 December 1938, 2,833 Negroes were registered in Norfolk, Virginia, as against 38,349 whites. A teacher of history in the Negro high school of Norfolk states that teachers in his

building, who are compelled to pay the poll tax, still do not register for voting. “They just don’t bother about it.” A Negro political leader in Hampton, Virginia, was asked the following question when he attempted to register in 1928: “What constitutes the twenty-seventh judicial district of Virginia?” In the cities of Virginia, especially in places like Richmond and Norfolk, Negroes now encounter little difficulty in registration. This was not always so, however, and it took a successful court fight to break down the registration barriers against Vir-

ginia Negro voters. The main obstacle to their voting in the general elections now is the three-year cumulative poll tax requirement.

In Hampton the County Civic League has been organized for some twelve years. Its broad program embraces general civic improvement, but its main activity centers around the participation of Negro voters in the election campaigns. It claims to control some five hundred Negro votes of the five thousand voters of the county. Its meetings are chiefly devoted to the task of educating Negroes as to voting qualifications and notifying them as to the due dates for poll tax payments and registration. It is claimed that the Negro vote holds the balance of power in

Hampton, and that the white candidates bid for the support of the Civic League. The League gets but meager support from the Negro elite.18

In Petersburg there is a League of Negro Voters whose ob17. These figures and those that follow on Virginia are taken from Wilhelmina Jackson’s field notes, October and November 1939.

18. This paragraph and the three that follow are taken from Bunche, “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, and Achievements of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” pp. 593-96. —ED.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 325 jectives are to stimulate interest in voting and to urge payment

of poll taxes. This is a federation of local Negro organizations. . According to its president:

We adopt the technique of house-to-house campaigns, using students and others with leisure time to make the canvass. We also distributed a leaflet explaining how to register and how much poll tax to pay. We have devised a system of collecting poll taxes by installment. Our campaign has been

measurably successful. In 1932 there were only fifty-two Negroes qualified to vote. Today, in 1939, there are 395 qualified Negro voters. We have received no opposition from

whites—on the contrary, several candidates for office have approached us and encouraged our activities. We have been so concerned with the technical details of mechanically mak-

ing a quantitative improvement in the Negro vote that we haven’t yet presumed to analyze candidates and issues from the standpoint of giving direction to our voters. In Portsmouth there was a Civic and Welfare Club which was

organized by Negro water-tenders at the Navy Yard in 1931, with the purpose of forming a central political organization for Negroes. This organization broke up in 1935, however. In the words of its organizer: I began this organization in 1931 with the idea of the best colored men heading it—lawyers, doctors, preachers—these were the men I wanted to head it. ... I wanted the group small —about fifty leading citizens—to go to the front and fight for the colored man’s rights. The issues on which we organized

and for which we planned to use our ballot were: schools, proper highways, sanitation, street lights, community centers and recreation centers. .. . We were going to work hand in glove with the city administration. Before the end of 1935, someone had written to Washington and reported my activities. I was written to from Washington to stop my activities or my job would end. I had to get out of things... . The Civic and Welfare Club died.

The breakup of this organization really revolved about its at-

tempt to control all federal appointments for Portsmouth Negroes.

Newport News boasts a number of independent Negro organizations, including the Negro Citizens’ Voters League, a Young Men’s Democratic Club organized in 1932, a Young

326 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Colored Men’s Democratic Club organized in 1936, the East End Voters League, the Citizens’ Voters League, and the Newport News Negro Republican League. The two Negro Democratic clubs are pro—New Deal. The Citizens’ Voters League is the oldest Negro organization in Newport News. Formerly it was headed by a Negro stevedore and was originally called the Neero Republican League.

In Vicksburg, Mississippi, during the month of February 1939, a bit of vote consciousness was stirred up among Negroes.

On the initiative of a Negro doctor and a Negro beauty parlor

operator, seventy-five Negro women, members of a Negro women’s Republican club, went down to the registrar’s office in

a body and registered. No efforts were made to prevent them from registering or to discourage them. A flurry of excitement went through the white community, however, and several Negro employees in white families were asked: “What is behind all of this? What do you want to vote for?” This was significant only as an evidnce of Negro voting interest, since the Mississippi white primary effectively debars Negroes from the only significant voting in the state. According to A. W. Wells, the president of the NAACP in Jackson:

Negroes don’t receive any encouragement from the registrar when they go down to seek to register. They invariably ask you why do you want to vote, and they ask you to interpret

the Constitution. If you hesitate in reading the state oath which has lines that continue on across the next page, they slam the book in your face and tell you youre disqualified. Sometimes they tell you this anyway. About 100 Negroes vote

in general and special elections. Only two or three vote

in the primaries, and they are old figureheads in the community.!®

There are about 8,000 registered Negro voters in Tulsa, Oklahoma, about equally divided as to Democratic and Republican affiliation.*° There are several Negro organizations: the Tulsa

County Citizenship Council, an organization initiated by the chamber of commerce to get out the Negro vote; the Young Ne-

ero Democratic Club, which is a typical ward club without principle or political perspective; the Young Negro Voters League, which is very similar to the Young Negro Democratic Club; and the Jefferson Political Club, which is a slush-fund or19. From James Jackson’s field notes, February 1940. 20. Ibid., March 1940.

NEGRO REGISTRATION 327 ganization whose main efforts are devoted toward obtaining patronage. In Oklahoma City the Negro Democratic Central Committee

organized the Negro vote and brought it into the Democratic camp. This organization was soon split into two factions, however, and just recently these two factions have come together under the Negro Democratic Clubs of Oklahoma—an organization headed by a Negro “millionaire” oil man. This group is designed to function in local elections and primaries, as well as national elections, and to effect organizations on a county, ward, and precinct basis through the medium of ward clubs.”! The Little Rock Civic Association has an educational program for the purpose of getting people to register and vote in the

general elections. It is headed by a Negro teacher. It has been preparing an attack upon the white primary. There is also in Little Rock the Arkansas Negro Democratic Association, organized in 1928 for the specific purpose of mobilizing the Negro

vote for the 1928 presidential election.”” According to the official figures released by the Davidson County, Tennessee, election commission on 21 August 1939, a total of 45, 458 voters (including those in Nashville ) were registered, of whom 6,911 were Negroes. For the city of Nashville, the official registration aggregate was 29,907. In Nashville the fourth ward has an overwhelming Negro majority. The ninth,

eleventh, fourteenth, and sixteenth have Negro majorities, while the fifth, thirteenth, and fifteenth wards have slightly less than half of the registrants as Negroes. There are large Negro minorities in the second, sixth, eighth, tenth, and seventeenth wards. The following is a breakdown of those eligible to

vote in the heavily populated Negro wards of Chattanooga, where the Negro vote is controlled by the local machine.??

12th 4th 395 — 4th Ath 663 37 7th 2nd 420 102 7th Ist 239 261 ord Ist 145 65 2nd Ist 30 638 oth Ist 374 8th 1st136 91 179

Wards Precincts Negro White

21. From Bunche’s “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, and Achievements of Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” pp. 621-22. 22. Ibid., p. 621. —EDb.

23. James Jackson’s field notes, October 1939.

ELEVEN

The Poll Tax

THERE seems to be little room for doubt that the entrenched interests of the South in the late nineteenth century were fearful of the possible union between poor whites and Negroes, and that this possibility of a united people’s movement impressed them as a revolutionary upsurge that must be crushed at all odds. The poll tax legislation lent itself admirably to this purpose. It made it possible for the region to maintain its white supremacy doctrine and at the same time to keep away from the polls not only Negroes, but those underprivileged whites who constituted a new threat to the hegemony of the Southern ruling class. Some white Southerners were quite aware of the role the poll tax requirement was destined to play. Some of them

even came out boldly and stated that the poll tax would be an

important method for getting “rid of the venal and ignorant among the white men as voters.” It is ironic that the support of the poor whites and the “hillbillies” was enlisted by the conservative interests of the Scuth, not only to vote the Negroes out of politics, but to vote themselves out as well! The poll tax qualification for voting was inserted in the Tennessee constitution of 1870, but was not effectively applied un-

der state statutes until 1890. Virginia experimented with the poll tax qualification between 1875 and 1882, but abandoned it under the criticism of a governor who stated that it “opened the flood gates of corruption.” Florida introduced its poll tax requirement in 1889, followed by Mississippi in 1890, Arkansas in 1892, South Carolina in 1895, Louisiana in 1898, North Carolina in 1900, Alabama and Virginia in 1901, Texas in 1903, and Georgia in 1908. 328

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330 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

The poll tax takes an awful toll of the South’s voters. Eight states—Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia—still retain the tax as a prerequisite for voting. These eight poll tax states had, according to the 1930 census, a total potential voting population of 11,606,406. Yet in the 1936 election, one of the most hotly contested in recent years, a total of only 2,679,473 votes were cast in those states. This was only a few thousand more votes than were cast in the single state of Pennsylvania—nominally a Republican state—for the Democratic party alone. The potential voting population of Pennsylvania—that is, the population of voting age—numbers only 5,827,000. In other words, less than one qualified voter in four cast a ballot in the eight poll

tax states, while in the other states of the Union almost three out of four of the adult population voted.

: The accompanying map of the South indicates the states in which the poll tax is retained as a qualification for voting and gives the percentages of adults who voted in the presidential election of 1936.

Shaded States are those in which Se _

payment of poll tax is required of AA ale /) = voters. The figures are percentages P 92% yj 96% // REE of adults who voted in the presiden- 64% if Med / Yip

o 77poll tax , YP? North Carolina aa Y Repealed 1920 = Arkansas‘// Jennessee Mf, South FL

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The payment of a poll tax was a qualification for voting in eleven states—all in the South—in 1920. From 1896 to 1916 the combined vote of these states shrank 18 percent, while the adult male population increased 50 percent. North Carolina re-

THE POLL TAX 331 pealed the poll tax as a qualification for voting in 1920. This resulted in an immediate increase in the popular vote. During the

years 1916 to 1932 the vote actually increased 142 percent in that state. The states of Kentucky and Tennessee have just about the same population, but whereas Kentucky, where voting is not bound by the poll tax, cast 911,000 votes in 1936, Tennessee, with its poll tax prerequisite, cast a vote of only 473,000. The abolition of the poll tax requirement in Florida and Louisiana resulted in immediate increases in voting in those states. In Florida, for example, the special election in 1937 following the repeal of the tax showed an increase of 65,000 votes over the previous voting averages, while in the following Democratic primary voting was double that of the former averages in the state. According to Barry Bingham, publisher of the Louisville Courier-Journal, “as many as 64% of the white adult voters have

been disfranchised in the poll tax states, and in every one of those states, more whites than Negroes are barred from the ballot box by the tax.” Bingham points out that not only do several of the poll tax states make the levy retroactive, but that they also

require the payment of the tax months in advance of election day, and only the most wary citizen is likely to remember to pay up in time to save himself from disfranchisement. That is only one of a welter of restrictions that serve the sole purpose of confusing and confounding the would-be voter, to such an extent that in Arkansas and Virginia, for instance, it is not unusual for a citizen to require the services of an attorney before he can assure himself of a vote.1 It is typical of the states requiring the poll tax as a qualification for voting that the tax must be paid at a date which is determined by and is usually well in advance of the election. In Alabama the tax must be paid by February 1; in Arkansas, by October 1; in Georgia, six months before the election; in Mississippi, by February 1; in South Carolina, thirty days before

the election; in Tennessee, sixty days before the election; in Texas, before February 1; and in Virginia, six months before the election. Not only does this set a trap for the unwary voter, but it requires the voter to safeguard his franchise at a time 1. “Do All Americans Have the Right to Vote?” Louisville Courier-

Journal, 9 April 1939.

332 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

when interest in an election is at its lowest ebb due to the fact that the campaign has not even started. Moreover, it should be noted that the deadlines for the payment of the tax usually come in mid-winter, when cash is very scarce in the rural areas and when tenants and sharecroppers, who generally live on the credit system, possess none at all. George C. Stoney, in referring to the Texas poll tax technique, observes sagely:

Paying a poll tax in February to vote in November is to most folks in Texas like buying a ticket to a show nine months ahead of time, and before you know who’s playing, or really what the thing is all about. It is easy to forget to do, too, and

here is where the politicians are obliging. They buy up as many poll tax receipts as they can before the books close, keep them on file and pass them out to their “owners” on election day—with instructions, of course, and an extra dollar or so for sweetnin’.”

The poll tax provides a serious medium for the corruption of elections. For many years, political machines have followed the practice of buying up poll tax receipts in large blocks and herd-

ing these bought voters into the polls in order to keep the political boss and his lieutenants entrenched in power. In Hot Springs, Arkansas, a corrupt political machine shockingly abused the poll tax as a means of maintaining itself in power through alliance with the vice ring which it protected. A legislative investigating committee probed into the Hot Springs situation in February 1937. The testimony given before this committee is said to have disclosed the manner in which votes were cast through the purchase of poll tax receipts by some of the city’s high public officials, and the pressure which the mayor of Hot Springs brought to bear on city employees to compel them to vote for the incumbent officials.

...acertain citizen of Hot Springs testified that he had been present at a political meeting attended by Hot Springs police officers, firemen, and a selected group of citizens friendly to the machine, and that after Judge Ledgerwood of the municipal court opened the meeting Mayor McLaughlin stated that he expected 10 votes from every person present and advised them to get out and get poll taxes for 10 voters, but that if they could not do this themselves, then perhaps arrangements could be made to get the poll taxes. 2. Stoney, “Suffrage in the South. Part I: The Poll Tax,” Survey

Graphic, 29 (January 1940): 5.

THE POLL TAX 333 This man also testified that one of the employees was asked if he had his poll taxes, and he answered, “No. I will get

my own poll tax and vote for who I please.” To this Mayor McLaughlin replied:

“Now, there is a man who can vote for whom he pleases, but after this election we are going to know how he voted and there will be some man to take his place. Now that applies to

the drug stores and other business. The man that don’t cooperate with the administration and vote right—that is, don’t vote right for his boss—he will be boycotted in business. Get those poll taxes—down at the office you will find a slip there

authorizing poll taxes for you. And I want those filled out. ...I want you to bring them up so I can turn to them at any time and see just what we need. “They had those pink slips and were handing them out on every corner,” concluded the witness.?

In Chattanooga, Tennessee, the same administration has been in power for the past twelve years. Before each election, racketeers, bootleggers, and numbers and policy barons purchase large blocks of poll tax receipts as partial payment for the protection given their illicit enterprises by the city administra-

tion. They provide fleets of automobiles for the political machine in order that floating voters may be carried from one polling place to another to make use of the poll tax receipts which have been thus bought. Thus, there has developed a close relationship between the city administration and the vice ring, and the city suffers from a continually festering sore of corruption and graft. This is one of the evils of the Southern political process with which the Negro has little to do. As one Alabama informant put it, “Nobody ever goes so far as to pay a nigger’s poll tax.” This is quite true in Alabama and would be equally true for Georgia, Mississippi, and South Carolina. Some exceptions are to be found in Tennessee, especially in Memphis, and occasionally perhaps in Texas. But on the whole the Negro must pay his own poll tax, if it is paid at all. And when he does pay it, the only privilege granted is participation in the hollow general elections,

if indeed that is not denied by action of the registrars. Not only is the poll tax a great source of fraud in elections; it puts a premium on nonvoting. In Montgomery County, Ala3. Congressional Record, 76 Cong., 1 Sess. (5 August 1939), Appendix, pp. 4124-25.

334 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

bama, for example, the candidates for probate judge, “who are

usually wealthy men,” ride out into the countryside and persuade people to vote for them by getting them to sign up to have their poll taxes paid. The law allows a man to pay poll taxes for another so long as he does it without intending to influence his vote. This law is obviously almost impossible to enforce or even to interpret. Most of the states still adhering to the poll tax vot-

ing requirement have laws against anyone paying another person’s poll tax. Yet it is a notorious fact that this is common prac-

tice in virtually all of these states. Authorities throughout the poll tax South condone these violations. Questionable practices associated with the poll tax qualification, other than the outright buying of the vote by payment of the tax, include discrimination in the granting of exemption from poll tax payment, misdating of poll tax receipts in order to give the appearance of payment of the tax within the required period, and employment of the check-off system for the tax payments of employees in mills and

other industrial plants. Complaints that “wholesale payments of poll taxes” were being used to influence selection of delegations to the national party conventions were filed with the special Senate Elections Committee in April 1940. Senator Guy Gillette of Iowa, chairman of the committee, was quoted in the Washington, D.C., Sunday Star of 14 April 1940 as saying that “no one factor could

be used more to influence the election than these poll tax statutes. For instance, in a state with a poll tax of $2.50, boosters for a presidential candidate could go in and swing an important block of votes by spending $5,000.00.” The effect of the poll tax on voting in the South now has a di-

rect significance for the continuation of the Southern region's great influence in the councils of the Democratic party. The eight poll tax states exert an influence in Congress and in national affairs out of all propcrtion to the population which they represent. Approximately 18 percent of the present House of Representatives and 1614 percent of the present Senate repre-

sent the oligarchical one-party, minority-controlled poll tax states. More important still, however, is the fact that chairmanships of the congressional committees are determined by seniority membership in the party in power. Half of the chairmanships of the twelve most important House committees are currently held by representatives from the small-voting poll tax states. The same condition exists in the Senate. It should be noted that the tenure of the congressmen from a poll tax state is, on the

THE POLL TAX 335 average, much longer than that of non—poll tax state congressmen. It is not uncommon for a congressman from the poll tax states to be elected with as few as five thousand votes.

The poll tax acts as an obstacle to Republicans in those Southern counties in which they have a chance to win political power under fair election procedures. For instance, in Hamilton County, Tennessee, Republicans charge that the poll tax has prevented them from winning the county. They are placed at a disadvantage due to the fact that the Democrats, “selling” poll taxes in the trustee’s office, are able to exert great influence over the nature and extent of the vote in the county. A prominent Republican in Hamilton County explains that, while he is not in favor of the complete abolition of the poll tax, he is in favor of having it levied just as any other tax is: “The way it works now, it absolutely defeats the entire effort to have honest elections. The minority party has no way of raising revenue enough to qualify its people. If they did away with the poll tax, ‘Tennessee, I know, would be listed in the doubtful column and this county would go Republican.”* The poll tax is very convenient for the Hamilton County machine politicians; they can look at the registration books, calcu-

late how many votes they will need, and then go out and buy them up. This would seem to explain why in frequent instances there are large registrations and yet small votes in the elections. People register, expecting to have their poll taxes paid for them, and when the machine finds no need for extra votes, their taxes

remain unpaid and they are disqualified. One Republican said to Stoney:

The biggest benefit the tax payers of this county could receive is the repeal of the poll tax. It’s not the only evil, but it is

the biggest. If they would enfranchise everyone, regardless of color or creed, then I don’t believe they or any other machine could control a majority of the voters of this county. I

know because I went into politics. A bunch of us did in earnest. I had a house-to-house canvass made of every place in the fourth precinct of the twelfth ward [Negro], and we found 2,600 people of voting age. There weren’t 400 of them registered. .. . You give me $30,000, and I can carry this 4, George Stoney’s interview with a former member of the county board of elections, Chattanooga, Tennessee, 26 January 1940. Except where otherwise indicated, the quoted material in this chapter is taken from the notes of field interviews conducted by Stoney in 1940. —-Ep.

336 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

county for any man you name, if he has any decent name at all. About $5,000 of it would go to support an organization. A

paid organization is absolutely necessary. The rest would

go to buy poll taxes and to buy votes. :

First, ’'d get every voter and person eligible to vote in the county on card indexes, with cross references and everything. I’'d have about 80,000 cards... . I could make some kind of appeal to every group, enough at least to get a good share of

the independent vote. With the poll tax, almost anybody who knew the town could do it.

The amount of the poll tax is $1.00 per year in three states, $1.50 in two, $1.75 in one, and $2.00 in two. In Arkansas the $1.00 tax is doubled in case of failure to pay. Sometimes receipts are required not only for the current year, but for previous years. In Virginia receipts for three years preceding are required. In Alabama the would-be voter between the ages of twenty-one and forty-five may be required to show receipts for every year that has elapsed since he was twenty-one. The only persons commonly exempted from poll taxes are veterans, disabled persons, and the aged. In South Carolina the requirement applies only to men.

Questionnaire returns received by the Division of Labor Standards of the United States Department of Labor, sent out in accordance with a resolution adopted at the Third National Convention on Labor Legislation, show unmistakably that many workers, farmers, and tenants in these eight Southern states are prevented from voting because of inability to pay the poll tax— a restriction which has been felt with increasing severity since the depression began. The questionnaires further reveal that the poll tax is keenly resented both as an undemocratic device and

because it actively interferes with the election of candidates favorable to labor. The central labor union in a small Texas town says that the poll tax requirement has blocked the frequent efforts in Texas to ratify the child labor amendment. Again, it is reported that the secretary of an important Virginia central labor

union writes: “Practically all labor legislation for the past ten years has been defeated both in the House of Representatives and in the Senate of Virginia due to the influence and vote of those legislators from sections of the state that have a low labor vote; the lower classes being not able to pay poll taxes.” From Tennessee a labor official writes: “In every election, we find hun-

THE POLL TAX 337 dreds of workers who have registered but cannot vote because of lack of two dollars.” In some towns in Tennessee, the burden is even heavier because of the addition of a tax levied by munici-

palities as well as the state tax. The secretary-treasurer of a Georgia central labor union writes that he has personally “come in contact with .a large number of working people who would have voted all the way down the line for the New Deal if they could have had the $1 to pay the poll tax.” The editor of a liberal

daily newspaper in Virginia writes: “I think it is true that Virginia’s backwardness in the adoption of social and labor legisla-

tion is attributable, in part, to the highly unreasonable restrictions which have been placed around the franchise.”° In Tennessee, Texas, and particularly Virginia, there have been prolonged and strenuous efforts at repealing the poll tax requirements. These efforts have failed because not enough sym-

pathetic members in the state legislature can be secured. In Tennessee poll tax repeal bills have been introduced at session after session of the state legislature for the past fifteen years, but without success. Recent campaigns to repeal the poll tax requirement have been successful in two Southern states—Louisi-

ana and Florida. It should be noted, however, that the Louisiana legislature did not perform a clean job on the tax, since it left a requirement that the voter must produce a poll tax certificate obtainable without payment of tax, which many of the Louisiana electorate still confuse with the old poll tax receipts. The alleged fear that the abolition of the poll tax will open the floodgates of black political power is now often employed in the South to discredit the efforts of those who are striving to achieve some measure of democracy for at least the white population of that section. For instance, an editorial of 3 November 1939 in the Tuscaloosa, Alabama, News employs the threat of Negro domination as the basis for opposition to repeal of the poll tax:

This newspaper believes in white supremacy, and it believes that the poll tax is one of the essentials for the preservation of white supremacy. It does not believe in a Democracy

with a small “d”, because it knows this country never has had such a Democracy and never will have such a Democracy as long as white supremacy is preserved. .. . If it is “undemo5. United States Department of Labor, Division of Labor Standards, news release, 26 October 1937.

338 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

cratic” to argue for white supremacy—as it certainly is—then we plead guilty to the charge.

Comparatively few people pay the poll tax in the poll tax states. The chief influence of the tax is a negative one, since no

effort is made to collect it except from property-holders and others who wish to vote. As a revenue measure it would provide

far more funds if it were divorced from its connection with voting and if its collection from all adults were to be strictly enforced. The Montgomery Advertiser reported on 28 March 1940 that: A tabulation released .. . by Comptroller I. C. Heck, shows that 181,496 Alabamians have paid $467,392 to exercise their

voting franchise in the state primaries and the presidential election this fall. The 181,496 voters, who renewed their suffrage, is considerably short of the more than 300,000 who voted in the last

gubernatorial primary. What makes the difference is the exempt status of a great number of voters over 45 years of age and war veterans.

This becomes immediately apparent in Montgomery County, where this year, 6,950 residents paid $15,112 in poll

tax....

The poll tax is $1.50 a year, but Alabama law—the only one of its kind in the nation—makes the arrears cumulative. Thus, if a voter has not paid for two years and wants to begin voting again, he must pay two years’ back tax, plus the $1.50 for the current year. In election years, there is a tendency to pay up the arrears. This year in Clarke County, where most citizens are eating and sleeping politics, 3,564 voters have paid up. The average cost of requalifying was $4.86. One family alone paid $108. Approximately 6,000 expect to vote in May and November.

In Cullman County, where the Democrats have to fight hard against the Republicans, it costs 5,431 citizens an average of $4.53 to requalify. “In Clarke County,” said Comptroller Heck, “some payments were as much as $36.” In several Alabama counties the amount of taxes paid by voters and politicians reflects the existence of “hot” county races. In the absence of interesting campaigns, or in off-election years, a large part of the population lets its franchise lapse.

THE POLL TAX 339 The main reason for the strong support for the poll tax in Alabama and the reason behind the recent defeat of a legislative measure to modify the poll tax is said to be the “race situation.” The Negro vote would be small in the northern part of the state,

but in southern Alabama it would possibly be the “deciding factor,” and white people “do not want this influence” in Alabama politics. An American Federation of Labor leader in Gadsden favors, and thinks that most local members of the union favor, the poll tax, providing it is not cumulative. He takes this position because he believes that the tax helps to keep

Negroes “down” in the southern part of the state. There is no fear of Negro voting in northern Alabama, where blacks are in the minority, but the registrars are considered wise in following the policy of allowing only Negroes who have property to vote. It is estimated that ten Negroes in Etowah County pay the tax. The tax collector observed that “one nigger came in the other day and paid up $36.” In Etowah County, as elsewhere in Alabama, some people are favored in the office of the probate judge by having part of their poll tax “checked off” and having to pay only the remainder of it. This can be done easily without the state’s knowing anything

about it, for all of the auditing that is done is by tax receipts taken from the tax office. People who pay back poll taxes go to the office of the probate judge and get a statement saying how much back tax is owed. This record is kept on individual cards. The tax collector does not question this, but issues a receipt for the amount paid. His records go back to the office of the probate judge and there payment is marked down on the individual cards. Those paid up are filed in the “qualified voters” drawer. The judge could take out one of these cards, make a few pencil marks on it, and cancel several years’ back taxes without even his secretary knowing it, unless she was familiar with every single voter in the file. The poll tax is admittedly the factor which limits voting in Etowah County, since “it mounts up till people just can’t pay it.” Yet it is considered a good thing because, as a member of the county board of registrars told Stoney: “It keeps a lot of illiterate people and them that’s inclined to be radical away from the polls.

There’s just lots of them [‘radicals’] in Etowah County... . This is a regular nest of them. They'd run the county, too, if they got a chance to vote themselves in. They’d ruin our county.” A state senator from Etowah County is of the opinion that the

poll tax is a good thing for the following reasons: first, it goes

340 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

to the schools; second, if a man lacks enough interest in the welfare of his community to make a “free will offering,” then he

is not the kind of a voter the state should have. It ought to be cumulative too—first, because it would not be “fair” to those who have been paying “all these years” to let the others by; second, the adults who pay it are really paying for the old schooling which they have already enjoyed—they are not paying for the privilege of voting; third, if a man only had to pay in the years when he wanted to vote, then it would be definitely a “political tax.” The senator then went on to state his philosophy of voting:

I am not one of those men ... who gets excited about the small number of people in Alabama we have voting. If people

do not have interest in the issues, I think they ought not be persuaded to vote by a group of party workers. Besides, with 295 percent of the people voting ... you are bound to get the best minds of the community and the best judgments in that 25 percent. It gives you a pretty good cross section of the intelligent people. ... I think people make a mistake when they say voting is a right. If you will look back into the early history of this coun-

try as I have, I think you will agree with me that those men meant for voting to be a privilege. They set up our country on this theory that voting is given by the state to the individual as a matter of grace.

A collection of loafers in the sheriff’s office at Elba, a courthouse town in Coffee County, Alabama, were in agreement that

the poll tax is important because it “keeps the niggers” from voting. They understood that there was no danger in Coffee County, of course, since they could “handle” the few they had there, but it was the black belt which worried them. They felt that if it were possible to pass a law keeping the Negro from voting, repeal of the poll tax would be a good thing. Unless this could be done, however, it would be better not to take the chance.

One member of this group, a sawmill worker, did not like the idea of women voting either, since they only vote when they are “kin to a man that’s running.” It is an accepted fact that candidates pay the poll taxes for a

great many people in Coffee County, though they give the money for it to the people directly. Said the clerk in the office of the county tax collector: I Know they do. Of course, if somebody pays, we haven't

THE POLL TAX 341 got a right to ask him where he got it, but bad as the crops were last year, I know the people couldn’t have paid it them-

selves. Some people brought in ten and twelve dollars that hadn’t seen that much money in a whole year. We run a farm, and a lot better one than most people, and we lost money last year.

The Alabama mills at Enterprise “registered some of their em-

ployees” for the first time this year. At the time for poll tax payment, the superintendent of the mill brought down the poll taxes for fifty of his employees and explained that he was taking

it out of their wages, adding that he was going “to have all of them registered by next time.” A dozen or so white farmers were interviewed by Stoney at the

Centerville courthouse in Bibb County. They were in favor of poll tax revision to the end that the cumulative feature of the poll tax should be done away with, though they did not think

in terms of its total abolition. They all feared that the complete elimination of the tax would raise the dangerous problem of “niggers voting” and that if the poll tax were removed entirely, Negroes would be voting “in droves.” They would tell tales of what happened back in Reconstruction days. None of them, of course, had any firsthand knowledge of those days, but it was “my father told me” or “I hear tell,” etc. It would appear that the Southern demagogues have told this Reconstruction

horror story over and over again, until it has become both a dogma and a historical certainty to these people. The tax collector of Bibb County estimates that about 10 percent of the poll tax collected in that county is paid by mail. He explained that no effort is made to determine whether the tax payment comes from the person to whom the poll tax receipt is made out. He readily admits that candidates and, perhaps, companies or employers help the people pay the tax. To quote his

picturesque language: “When a person you know ain’t got a dime in the world comes in here and puts out six dollars, you know damn well somebody slipped it to him.” The tax collector receives 214 cents per name for receipts issued. A committeeman in a UMWA local in Bibb County stated that he owed fifteen dollars in back poll taxes for the year 1939—40.

He had made arrangements with a man in his local to “do the best he could for me,” and this man went to the county probate judge and “got me right” for $10.50. This same man made similar arrangements at that time for eight other union members.

342 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

The informant displayed the certificate, which was marked paid

for the years from 1933. The probate judge had marked “out of state” on his card for three of the years. The politicians in Bibb County are satisfied with the poll tax. They are afraid that the vote “might get too big” if the tax were repealed. But there is no real “danger” of the Negro’s getting to

vote in large numbers in Bibb County should the poll tax be

repealed. This is because Negroes are eliminated by the registrars. The editor of the Centerville Press is against the repeal of the

poll tax or the elimination of the cumulative feature because he believes that there are already enough people in the county who sell their votes. He declares:

I see them coming to town the Saturday before election. They go to this candidate and pick up 50¢ and they go to that one and hit him for 50¢. It’s got so now no smart candidate will give them anything unless he gets to see them mark their

ticket... . If the tax were repealed, it would cost $10,000 to elect a probate judge. As it is now, the men in office have to spend most of what they make to stay there. This means that any man who can make a living in any other way doesn’t fool with politics. I’ve been working across from that courthouse for over twelve years and I know those fellows. It is not the poll tax that is preventing a great many Negroes

from voting in the South. As one Negro voter in Huntsville, Alabama, says:

We have a number of intelligent, educated men and women here who would be glad to pay that amount of money

if they could get registered. They would be willing to pay that much just for the privilege of saying they are fullfledged citizens. There would be at least a hundred who would

register if for no better reason than to keep up with the Joneses.

The provisions allowing poll tax exemption for disability in Alabama have often been so abused as to result in “open scandal.” The former law provided that anyone so disabled that he could not make a reasonable living at the profession or calling for which he was trained was entitled to exemption. Under this

provision the exemption list in Madison County had always been high, sometimes running around four hundred. In 1936, with the commissioner’s race coming up (this is always the most

THE POLL TAX 343 heated political race in the county), extra votes were being sought. Following the example of politicians in neighboring counties, certain of the candidates in Madison began bringing in their supporters who, according to the probate judge of the county, “had bad coughs, broken fingers, lumbago, or were hard-

of-hearing.” The number of exemptions reached about eight hundred before the books were closed. Under the new law, however, a person must be “totally and

permanently disabled” in such a way that he cannot earn a living; and, in addition, he must sign an affidavit saying that he has not had five hundred dollars worth of property within the last tax period. This has cut the total number now receiving exemption in Madsion County down to 150. People can register in Madison County without paying the poll tax, and a good many of them do. Some of these people hope that they will

be able to get the money needed to qualify for voting. Others register in the hope that they will find some candidate who will pay their poll tax for them. Still others anticipate special exemption for disability. Responsible people in the county all agree that the poll tax is the main reason for the small vote. The circuit judge believes that the county should have a voting population three times as large as at present. The president of the Textile Workers Union of America local

in Marymack Village, a mill village about four miles from Huntsville, cannot vote because he is behind in his poll tax. He

has been in Huntsville since 1918, but never registered until 1936. But by that time he was unable to pay poll taxes. He is forty-one, and thus owes in the neighborhood of thirty dollars for back taxes. He has a large family, none of whom vote, and buying that vote would be “like buying a house.” He finds it diffi-

cult to urge other men in the union to pay their poll taxes and vote when they know he does not. Yet layoffs, strikes, and shutdowns have made payment actually impossible. The Marymack Mill workers are said to be notorious for selling their votes. In a recent campaign when the politicians tried to cut the two-dollar

fixed price, they formed an informal brotherhood union and forced the price back up to two dollars. From 1927 to 1934 the three textile mills in Huntsville were very active in politics. Two of the three mills required that their workers pay poll taxes and register. The tax books were brought to the office, and the workers paid or had it taken out of their pay envelopes. The mills, of course, encouraged their workers to vote

“right.” But this practice was stopped in 1934 when, after the

344 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

first spurt of union organization, the employees voted solidly against the mill ticket. Since that time the vote in the mill boxes has declined sharply. Strikes, lockouts and curtailments, and the lack of compulsion have caused most mill people to fall behind

with their poll taxes, and elections find them unable to exert the power they could have. They were, however, very active in the 1936 campaign, and in 1938, despite a lockout that came in the midst of the poll tax season and lasted through the voting season, they conducted a political program that has won the respect of politicians throughout the county. Under labor’s Non-Partisan League, all three of the union locals held mass

meetings before both of these elections, worked out their tickets, and issued sample ballots. The Huntsville unions have urged their members to pay their poll taxes, but they have been able to carry on only a halfhearted campaign, because the workers simply did not have the money. Mat Williams, a “good union man” in Huntsville, says that the only good he sees in the poll tax is that “it’s the only thing in the world I know of that makes a man glad when he gets to be 45.” Williams, an ex-serviceman, like all other ex-servicemen in the union, votes regularly. But his wife does not vote, because she cannot pay her poll tax. He threatened to “pay it up” when several other union men were trying to save up money enough to “buy their wives the vote, but then he got “hard up” and could not do it. Out of the fifteen or so men who “swore at the last election” they were going to enfranchise their wives, only two did so. It would cost Williams eighteen dollars to pay his wife’s poll tax, and he explains that “one vote will have to do” until his boy gets three years older. This one vote is for a household of five. “Politicians” pay other people’s poll taxes for them “a-lots” in Madison County. This year, on the last day on which poll taxes were collectible, the tax collector’s office stayed open until after

midnight. The corridors were filled with people “hanging around, waiting for some candidate to pay their poll tax.” The tax collector commented that every incumbent running for reelection was absent from the courthouse all that day, leaving the

clerks to face the music while they hid from the clamoring voters.

The chairman of the Madison County board of registrars believes that it is right that the poll tax should be voluntary and a qualification for voting, because the act of paying is proof that a person wants to help support the schools, and this is “as good

THE POLL TAX 345 a test as any” of a man’s fitness to vote. No one is required to

show his registration certificate or his poll tax receipt at the polls in Madison County unless his name does not appear on the certified list. If it does not, and if he has these two slips, he can vote anyway, providing he takes an affidavit that he is a qualified voter. If anyone should challenge a voter, he is permitted to go ahead and vote, providing he takes the challenge oath. The tax collector of Lee County states that about 60 percent

of the employees of the Opelika Mills Company and a much higher percentage of those working in the Pepperell Manufacturing Company plants pay poll taxes. The workers in these textile mills pay their poll taxes “through the office.” They are “signed up” at the payroll window and the amount is taken out of their pay envelopes. The voting is done in the companyowned recreation hall. Managers of elections are foremen and “people from the probate office.” The foremen are known to be “big politicians” and to have much influence over the hiring and firing of men. Although the payment of poll taxes is more or less

a voluntary proposition, according to the tax collector, one of the textile companies “drums it up” among its employees.

There are over four thousand property taxpayers in Macon

County, Alabama, but only some eight hundred poll tax— payers. The tax collector of the county explains that this may not be understood “unless you know how many niggers we got.” He estimates that perhaps fifteen Negroes pay poll taxes, includ-

ing the president of Tuskegee Institute, who had been a registered voter in Texas or some other state “out that way.” Most of

the other Negroes who vote are veterans or over age. The tax collector admits that a great many poll taxes in Macon County are paid by the candidates. He tells of numerous cases in which a man would come into his office and pay the poll tax for eight or nine people—tenants on the same place, neighbors, people who work in the same store, and so forth. “I know a lot of them had it furnished, but that’s none of my business to ask.” He esti-

mates that “from 20 to 40 percent” of the poll tax collected in the county is paid with money originating from political sources.

In answer to a question about the number of tenants who vote, he replied: “Right smart of the tenants are voted.” The probate judge estimates that “about 20 percent” of the total poll taxes collected each year is paid by candidates, though, he adds: “Nobody ever goes so far as to pay a nigger’s poll tax.”

346 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

The chairman of the Macon County Democratic committee —who is also a state senator—expresses the view that the poll tax is a good thing: It keeps out a certain class of white voter who isn't really competent to vote. In this county, and in some others, it prevents those Negroes who might. want to vote for the money they might get out of it, from trying to register... .I know it doesn’t keep out all those who might sell their votes, but it does keep out a great many. Some poll taxes are paid by the candidates, I know. It is done on both sides in a great many counties, just as it is here. It is never done only by one side. It should be noted that the poll tax is the important factor in accounting for the small number of women voters in Alabama. This state senator also describes the method used to kill the reform bill in the last session of the Alabama legislature: “We [the leaders of the opposition] told the men from north Alabama that its repeal would allow the Negroes to vote. We told the men

from south Alabama that it would increase labor’s vote. By playing labor and the Negro against each other, we had no trouble in killing it.”

The paying of people’s poll taxes by candidates or their “agents” in Cullman County has become an open scandal. The poll tax has been paid recently in three ways: (1) it was given out directly by the agents for candidates to one member of a family who paid the tax for several members; (2) it was given directly to the people who were then required to bring back receipts showing they had paid their taxes; (3) lawyers, acting on behalf of the candidates, went about and solicited permission to pay up people’s poll taxes. The person thus benefited was asked to sign his name to a statement giving the attorney power to act as his agent. Attorneys, then, with long lists of names, went into the tax office and handed over large sums of money. These lists were checked with the probate judge’s office beforehand to ascertain exactly the amount of back tax owed. An election official who is also a county Democratic executive committeeman in Cullman claims to know personally “at least fifty people” who have had back taxes paid this last season by one or another of the candidates for probate judge. He states: One man came into the office—a nice fellow, ’ve known

him for years—and he says: “I want to ask you something... .” A supporter of one of the candidates had offered

THE POLL TAX 347 to pay half of the $36 back poll taxes which he owed if he would pay the rest. The man wanted to do this, but felt he would be obliged to vote for the particular candidate, though the man had asked for no promise. This man was asking the election official what to do. He states that he wanted to vote for the other candidate, and so I told him to wait a minute. I went back and phoned up ____. and told him about it because I knew he was paying them up, too. _____ said “You send him up here, and we'll fix him up.” And he went up there, and_____ paid the $18.

An election official in Cullman County, alluding to the huge

poll payment made this year, estimates that “at least 2,000” people had their poll taxes paid for them and that it was done by “both sides.” In describing how this was performed, he relates: My boy, there, got his tax paid up by ____. ’m ashamed to say it, but he did. He’s 23, and he hadn’t paid his tax to vote, and I was after him about it one night when another fellow was over here. He said, if he’d go home with him, his daddy could fix it up. Well, my boy went home with this friend, and they went up to the courthouse together, and got right. I told my boy he ought to be ashamed of hisself, doing a thing like that, but he swore he didn’t promise nobody how he was go-

ing to vote; but he knowed the man was aworkin’ for ___, and you know, yourself, if a man puts out for you, youre bound to feel obligated. This official hesitates to favor poll tax repeal for the following

two reasons: (1) south Alabama might then be in danger of Negro domination. Cullman people have no such fear because they have no Negro population. Even so, they would be affected

in state affairs by what transpires in southern Alabama. (2) It might turn a “whole mob” of voters loose in the big centers, to be “bought and paid for” by the unscrupulous politicians. He pictured Birmingham becoming another Kansas City. He spoke of a recent campaign in Cullman County in which the payment of people’s poll taxes by others became so flagrant that: “It was done openly. It got so bad towards the last, people began taking from both sides. I know one fellow who said he owed twelve dollars. He collected from both sides, got a receipt and showed the same receipt to both paymasters.”

The poll tax payments in Cullman County have been large

348 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

this year (1939-40) because of the intense interest over the 1940 election of the probate judge and the attempt of the Demo-

crats to oust the Republican incumbent. The sheriff of the county admits that many of these payments have been made by the “political group,” and though he does not have “definite information about where it’s coming from, .. . I knowit’s not paid by the people themselves in lots of cases.” Although there have been no convictions on charges of one person’s paying the poll tax for another in Cullman County, the practice is traditional and of common knowledge. One prominent candidate, in speaking of this matter and referring specifically to a recent election in the county, states:

The parties interested in this election have put up about $15,000 this year ... which came directly out of two candidates’ pockets—one on each side. There is a great deal of sentiment about the poll tax in this county. I don’t think people ought to have to pay anything for their vote, and a great many other people think the same thing. As long as you do, you are going to have candidates paying people’s poll taxes for them, and what one does on one side, the other’s got to do.

The registrar of Jefferson County, Alabama, estimates that 25 percent of the registered veterans in that county are under fortyfive and thus receive exemption from payment of the poll tax. There are between 10,000 and 11,000 veterans on the certified list, of which some 8,000 are active voters. The registrar him-

self is a big American Legion man and is said to deliver the Legion vote. He estimates the total number of exemptions in the county, including those excused because of disability, active

war service, national guard affiliation, and the like, to be approximately 3,600.

It is common practice in Alabama for men to register in a new county and to be put on the books and given a clean poll tax record on their word that they had already paid up. It also happens that many probate judges will excuse a person some or all of his back taxes if he is moving to another county to vote, as a sort of “last favor.” It is likewise common practice for peo-

ple to register in a new county and to claim that they are over age or exempt. When this claim is presented, many probate judges do not bother to write back for records to see whether or not the applicants have paid all taxes due. There are “any number of cases” where people have moved from Montgomery County, owing from one to twenty years back poll tax, and are

THE POLL TAX 349 now voting in the counties of their new residence without having written to the office of the judge of probate in Montgomery for a transfer. One possible explanation for this looseness is the

fact that probate judges in the other counties see in the new voter a new supporter and do not bother to write back for records. The tax collector in Birmingham is admittedly not very strict

about observing the deadlines for the collection of the tax. He

states that “when people tell me they honestly forgot it, and when I know every penny of it goes to the school, I don’t see hardly how I can refuse to take their money.” The indications, however, are that this was a means whereby the tax collector could save a friend, for it was noted that the clerk did refuse to take the money of several people who offered it beyond the deadline. The tax collector. believes that everybody knows when poll taxes are due, since all of the papers carry on campaigns, run streamer heads about it, and help the League of Women Voters in their drive to get people “paid up.” To make it easier for people to pay the tax, the tax collector establishes poll tax booths over the county for a week or so before the deadline. About twenty-five of these booths are set up each two years, and they are manned by deputized League of Women Voters

members, beat committeemen, or anyone else who can be trusted. In Birmingham the Democratic party makes no effort to get people to pay their poll tax. Individual candidates do, however, and some candidates pay the poll tax for the people. Many of the business concerns insist that their employees pay the tax. Some of the mining companies formerly paid the taxes for their employees by the check-off system, but this practice has been discontinued “since they got unions.” There is no difference in the tax requirements for men and women in Jefferson County, except that women’s taxes are cumulative only from 1920. All de-

cisions about exemptions are made by the registrar, The tax collector of Jefferson County finds no fault with the poll tax law. He states: “We here in Alabama are satisfied with our poll tax law.” He admitted that it was “not much good for keeping the Negro from voting,” but he defended the tax on the ground that if a man is not willing to pay $1.50 for schools, he is not

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“the kind of a citizen we want to vote.” The chairman of the county board of registrars believes that without the poll tax re-

quirement, politics in Jefferson County would be in a dangerous way. [The miners shift about so much, the large population of

350 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

construction workers drifts so extensively, and so many thousands of people migrate from the county that great numbers could easily be herded to the polls by a machine were it not for the poll tax—or so the chairman thinks. Much of the poll tax in Montgomery County is paid through the mail, not merely by absentees but by city people who do not like to stand in line. The tax collector merely “assumes” that peo-

ple who send in the money are the same as those who have signed the registration books. In Montgomery, the telephone and the power companies have someone in their offices bring in poll taxes for their employees in the different divisions. The tax ~ collector assumes that this is taken out of the pay envelopes of the employees of these companies. He notes also that several of the “large mercantile establishments” warned their employees

that poll taxes must be paid by a certain time, and that they have someone from their office come into the office of the tax collector to check on the employees midway in the tax collection season. The actual payment of the tax, however, is made by individuals. The tax collector observes that few men in Montgomery County dare announce their candidacy for public office be-

fore the close of the poll tax season and that those who are rumored to be candidates “get worried to death by people after them to get their poll taxes paid.” Members of labor unions in such textile towns as Dallas, Alabama, point out that they can catch the young people and register them, but that it is almost hopeless to try to get people past thirty registered, since they cannot afford to pay the back poll tax. The treasurer of the Dallas local of the TWUA states that he and his brother are the only ones in a household of nine who vote. His wife, a woman of twenty-seven, does not vote because of the poll tax. He adds: “I’ve got a sister-in-law that’s dying to

vote. She’s 29. She’s got my no ’count brother and three young uns to feed... . That $14.50 would last her two weeks

board bill on the whole mess.”

The clerk of the election commission of Hamilton County, Tennessee, was very emphatic in his explanation as to why it would never be possible to do away with the poll tax requirement for general elections in that county. In answer to a query as to why this would not be possible, he replied heatedly: Why? And have some big, black son-of-a-bitch sitting up

in the courthouse sending white men to jail? That’s what

_ would happen if the niggers started voting heavy here.

THE POLL TAX 351 They'd have a black commissioner at City Hall—some sporting black reared back like God Almighty. No, Sir! Son, I’m

not for that! ’m a Southerner and a Democrat. I was born and bred in the South, and that kind of thing ain’t in the blood that runs in my veins. We had niggers on our farm. A nigger mammy carried me around when I was a baby, but you start saying a nigger’s on equality with me and that don’t go with me. No, siree! They outnumber the whites around this town and if we didn’t have the poll tax, they'd out-vote them. After admitting that quite a number of Negroes are permitted

to vote, this same representative of Southern officialdom continued :

Soon as they start trying to do away with that poll tax, theyre gonna have trouble. Some black bastard’ll vote himself into City Hall and there'll be a race riot sure as hell. It’s done it before. That’s what we ought to have—something like that to kill off about three-fourths of the son-of-a-bitches. Got too many of them around here anyway. They’re getting away with too much now... . Hell! They’ve got schools and libraries,

and such as that as good as the whites. We ought to kill off about half of them and then put them back on the farm like it was in slavery time. That’s the only way to doit. Hell! The way

they talk now, you’d think any one of them black bastards as good as a white man. This man was equally vigorous in his opposition to public health service and relief benefits for Negroes. He also vehemently denounced those “no ’count whites” who complain about the poll

tax, especially those folks who “don’t pay a cent of taxes; but that two dollars’s for schools, and they’re sending six or eight younguns. That's the kind that kicks most about the schools, too. They ain't got sense enough to see how much the state’s a-givin’ them.” The mayor of Chattanooga is also very clear in his attitude toward the poll tax. He stated, in connection with a question concerning the poll tax, “Yea! What you want to do, repeal it and have the niggers in this town bond us to death? They'd have this town in the poorhouse in two years. They don’t pay taxes, so they don’t care how much you spend.” In Hamilton County a “certified list of poll taxes paid” is made

out each spring, printed, and sent in to the secretary of state in Nashville. In the early fall a supplementary list is made out in the same way. There is no racial identification in these certified

352 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

lists. The poll tax is thought of as a unit tax of two dollars. Although the law calls it a one dollar state tax and a one dollar county tax, the amount is assessed as a lump sum. It is recorded on the county tax books only, turned over entirely to the county, and not audited by the state. The only state check is through the “certified list,” and this is little more than a formality. Special elections are generally exempt from the poll tax requirement. No poll tax has been required for voting in the Hamilton County Democratic primary for more than a decade. The Republicans hold only county conventions. Poll tax slips are demanded of all those who vote in the elections in August. These elections are a combination of the county general election, the Democratic state primary, and the Republican state primary. Only haphazard efforts are made to collect back poll taxes in

Hamilton County. As the assistant trustee of the county explains it: You see we're supposed to collect it, but you always can't. Mr. Richardson [county trustee] at the first of the year he says “you got to get that poll tax.” And, of course, we’re strict at first. But it’s just like it was in school, you know. Theyre strict on one thing for a while and then they are not so strict. When

a man comes in to pay his taxes, we make up the bill and then we always ask him about his poll tax. Lots of people begin to argue. They say theyre exempt or they live out of the state, or they don’t vote anyway. Of course, if that’s so, we don’t bother them. The rest of the time we try to talk him into it. Of course, he can’t vote unless he’s paid his last year’s poll tax. He knows that already without us telling him. But, that don’t mean much to a lot of people.

As to the right of issuing a tax receipt for other taxes, if payment of poll taxes is refused, the assistant trustee explains that: Well, we’re not supposed to, but most of the times we do, especially when they argue about it or when we're right busy like in February or March. Some people, they kick about paying poll tax because they think it’s just something the politicians get, but when they find out it’s for schools, they gener-

ally pay up. Lots of people pay up for the past few years. Maybe they don’t have money for that before. When they think that this is about all they pay during their life for an education—something like $60.

The tax collection officials in Hamilton County apparently

THE POLL TAX 3953 exercise discretion in the amount of persuasion they employ on different people toward the payment of the poll tax:

We always try to go easy on those people we know can‘ afford it, but if it’s somebody we know’s just trying to beat the county, we generally make him come back when he feels like paying. Lots of them do, too. Course it’s pretty hard to make a nigger pay his poll tax. Of course, the school teachers always pay their taxes, and they vote. ... But take an old nigger that don’t own nothin’ but a shanty that he pays $1.72 tax on. It’s

pretty hard to make him pay a poll tax. Among those exempted from poll tax payment in the county are people over fifty, the physically handicapped (these must have a certificate from the county physician to be exempted ), and peo-

ple without state residences (as shown on the tax records ).

Veterans are not exempt in Tennessee. 7

Two episodes witnessed in the tax collector’s office in Chattanooga are suggestive of the nature of poll tax administration in the South. In one instance an attempt was being made to “sell” the poll tax to an elderly farmer, who refused to be moved by the

argument that “this is the only way you pay the state back for your schooling, and all you pay them is about $60 during your life.” The farmer growled that he “never had no $60 worth of schoolin’.” After prolonged argument, the farmer refused to pay the tax, and the tax official refused to give him a receipt for the rest of his taxes. The farmer went out very angry. The tax official commented: “He'll be back Monday. Just you watch. Imagine a

man owning a farm worth $10,000 fussing about paying $2.00 poll tax.”

In the other instance a bewildered middle-aged woman had commenced to pay taxes on property owned jointly by herself and her sister. The sister had always paid the taxes before, but was now ill. This was the first time this woman had ever paid taxes of any kind. Not having been billed for the poll tax, and the bill for the property having been sent to the other sister, she claimed to know nothing about it. To the tax collector’s questions, “Haven’t you ever tried to vote?” and “Haven’t you ever thought about it?” she replied, “I don’t bother about it.” The tax official brought out a receipt for the tax and said he hoped her sister would be feeling better soon. Schoolteachers in the county have little choice about paying the tax. As the county superintendent puts it: “We see to it that all the teachers pay their poll taxes. They can’t get a contract

3904 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

until they do. Yes-siree, the teachers and everybody connected with the schools help do their best to keep up the schools.” Any man can come in and buy poll tax slips for all of the members of his family. The clerks in the collector’s office merely take his word for it. The 1935 Tennessee Valley Authority election in Hamilton County, for which the poll tax requirement was waived, demonstrated the great increase in voting over the election to which the tax requirement applied. This indicated quite clearly that many more people do vote when no poll tax slip is required. With reference to the allegation that certain labor unions in Hamilton County had bought poll tax receipts for their members, allowing them to pay on installment into the union treasury, the chairman of the county board of elections says:

Theyre not supposed to, but I know they do. I guess the labor unions are guilty just like the rest when it’s in the politician’s interest to allow it. Of course, the trustees are supposed to uphold the law, and the law says it’s a crime to pay poll taxes for other people, but they do it. They’ve done it for

years. Why, they just put down the money and buy up a

whole book of them.

The “vote herders” know some time in advance whom they can vote, and they're not taking such a big chance. They know whose vote they've got. It’s mostly the underworld element, you know. Theyre afraid not to vote or to do anything else these fellows

tell them, because when they get into trouble, he can help them out or he knows something on them. So, these herders, they register them, take up their certificates and buy poll taxes to go with them, and the fellow who votes don’t see it till election day.

There’s a lot of talk around here about doing away with the poll tax. Right here in this town, there’s a big sentiment against it. Pm against that, myself, and I'll tell you why. It would put the nigger in power. We’ve got a large Republican group here, and the nigger would be the balance of power.... Not that ’m against the nigra, understand, but ninety percent of his vote is a controlled vote. If he voted where his benefit lay, I'd be all for it, but he don’t.

About 90 percent of the nigras are nominal Republicans, and I guess they’d vote that way if they weren’t balked by first

one bunch and then the other.

THE POLL TAX 355 As to the political use of poll taxes in Chattanooga, an experi-

enced labor leader and campaign manager in local politics avers:

Anything they tell you up at that county courthouse about not selling poll taxes to these ward heelers is barefaced lying. They buy up back-dated poll taxes after the books are supposed to be closed. .. . They never keep a record of receipt books. .. . I’ve seen them erase names and have people vote

—two and three of them—on the same receipt... . In some of the wards, the Republican is bought off, or he’s so drunk it don’t make any difference to him.... What they do is, they take a whole book of extra receipts and put down the money for it. If they have to show an account of it, the money is there; if they don’t after the election, they get it back. .. . ’ve seen men with whole fistfuls of poll

tax slips and registration certificates, handing them out at the door of the polling places and taking them up when the people come out.

The trustee is an important county office in a county such as

Hamilton, despite the fact that he does not assess taxes and has no judicial function, primarily because he does “sell” poll taxes. The following testimony by a local Republican suggests why:

ll tell you a story. I come from back up in the hills here, and when I was coming along as a young fellow, my father was elected trustee of the county on a Republican ticket. He was the only Republican in the courthouse when he was elected,

and he was the first one elected in 14 years. Well, sir, he served three terms [legal limit] and before he got out, every single person in the courthouse was Republican. My father was a church-going, God-fearing, upright man. He never stole a dime or cheated a man out of anything. He didn’t know

anything about it—I guess he suspected—but, anyway, me and my brother handled the poil taxes out of his office, and we did just like the other crowd when they was in, until we had every JP’s [justice of the peace] court in that county, and I can say it right out: the most common use of the poll tax in that county, in this county, and in every other county where the poll tax is a requirement for voting, is to control the election either through block purchase or bogus tax receipts. It would seem difficult to employ “bogus tax receipts” when a certified list of people who paid the tax is printed. But it is ex-

356 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

plained that two lists are made out, or at least this was the prac-

tice when our Republican informant was a member of the board. One was the certified list, and this was not used at the polls; it was replaced by special typed lists, numbered and sent out to each precinct. On these typed lists were more than six thousand payments for which the county had actually received no revenue. Thus, in addition to the illegal purchase of poll taxes, these “bogus slips” were also in circulation. The chairman of the Hamilton County Democratic commit-

tee has no doubt that the repeal of the poll tax would increase the vote enormously, but the politicians favor the tax because: It gives them a smaller field to work. ... And they can control the vote better that way. I’m telling you these things because I like to think of myself as a little progressive... . But, by virtue of my holding a state job, I’m almost a part of that machine. You’ve got a bunch of men in there—I'll tell it to you straight—who want to control things for themselves. Not that they’re selfish. ... Yes, by God, it’s because they're selfish!

They want things to go their way, and they don’t care about the poor devils who vote.

The machine politicians are for the poll tax because it serves their interest so well. As a political reporter for the Chattanooga Times states:

The only damn reason they keep the poll tax is so they can control the vote—keep it small and control it. I’ve watched this thing 15 hours a day for 15 years now, and I know that for a fact. But, if they have the registration receipts, it won’t be a hell of a lot better. Of course, the machine wouldn’t know so well where it stood. They’d have to spend more money.

A former chairman of the county election commission and present editor of the Hamilton County Herald says of the poll tax:

Sure, it makes all the difference in the world. We had a good example of it in the power election a few years back. The

legislature passed a bill on taxing—on taxing the people— and we voted 27,000 here in the city of Chattanooga. They wouldn’t have voted more than 18,000 at the outside, without it.... The poll tax is supposed to go to the schools, you know. I don’t think very much of it gets to the schools, but it’s a good

way to keep a lot of the riffraff away from the polls. It’s a

THE POLL TAX 3907 handy way for the politicians to keep in power, too, but it does keep a lot of people who don’t have sense enough to vote from being herded.

In Virginia the poll tax is kept on the books first of all to prevent Negro domination or office-holding in the black belt coun-

ties of Dinwiddie, Amelia, Nottoway, Brunswick, and Prince George, and secondly to prevent the state from falling into the hands of the poor white semi-illiterates, who are living in want on a plane with the Negro and who share most of his grievances against the state government. Although Negroes encounter less and less difficulty in regis-

tering and voting in Virginia, the state’s poll tax of $1.50 per year, which is cumulative for a three-year period, is a restriction on black voting. It is equally restraining upon poor whites, of course. This requirement strengthens the Byrd-Glass state machine in Virginia, for the poll taxes of the poor whites are paid by machine men and those of Negroes by so-called “leaders” whose function it is to corral the Negro vote. In a political address published in the Portsmouth Star of 3 August 1938, B. A. Banks declared that the Byrd-Glass organization “dominates the state from the mountains to the sea with the weight of its dead hand; its tentacles in the shape of local machines, are found in every city and county in the state.”

Figures obtained from the city treasurer’s office of Norfolk reveal that the following poll tax payments are recorded: 1937

—18,309 whites as against 1,578 Negroes; 1938—19,201 whites as against 1,785 Negroes; 1939—18,329 whites as against 1,448 Negroes. According to one Negro political leader in Richmond:

The poll tax keeps most Negroes from voting, as it does most white folks. If you miss a year paying your $1.50, it adds up each year for three years. Then you owe about $5.00 [penalty is added for delinquent payment], which you must pay six months before the date of the primary election. Then, you have to register. Registration is simple. You just write your name, address, and date of birth on a slip of paper the registrar hands you. He doesn’t have to tell you what to write, however, and that’s the joker in the deck. They used to mail everybody a notice when their poll tax was due, but they don’t do that any more.°® 6. James Jackson’s interview with Roscoe Jackson, president of the Richmond Democratic League, Richmond, Virginia, October 1939.

398 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

The Southern Planter, a magazine with a wide circulation in the rural areas of Virginia, has carried on a vigorous campaign against the poll tax as a qualification for voting. In the following passages from the issue of January 1938, it debunks the argument that the tax in its present form is an important aid to education.

The outspoken defenders of the voter poll tax are, as a rule, quite insincere; for, in clever speech, they voice their desire for the tax as a pillar of support for the public schools; but, in their hearts, they cherish it as a sort of central wheel

in a vicious political machine—a device for keeping the electorate small and readily controllable. Clothed in the guise of the defenders of education, they smugly decline to discuss the issue further than to pose the question: What would our free schools do without the revenue from the poll tax?

Our answer to this poser is: Have three times as much revenue for the schools by disconnecting the tax from elections. Treated strictly as a tax, the yield of the poll tax would be three times as large, and its burden far more equitable. For

one-third of the adult population of Virginia the public schools and local treasuries now receive, on a four year average, about $700,000 annually; from the other two-thirds they receive nothing; but if poll tax collections were made fair and equal upon all persons over 21, they would receive more than two million dollars.

The majority report of the Committee on the Study of the Capitation Tax as a Pre-Requisite to Voting, representing the Young Democratic Clubs of Virginia, defends Virginia’s poll tax

law, declaring that: It has been pointed out to us that other Southern states have

abolished the poll tax and thereby increased the number of persons participating in elections. We again revert to our former position, has this resulted in any better government? The State of Virginia possesses a government inferior to none, and we submit without fear of contradiction, that the men in public office, on the whole, are of a higher type than in any other state in the Union. It has been argued that there are many who cannot afford the poll tax, but with the thousands of dollars spent annually on tobacco, cosmetics, and similar luxuries by the great mass

of the people, it is felt that it is not hardship, but a lack of

THE POLL TAX 359 any real sustained interest in the functions of government

for which the poll tax is spent, that prompts the cry of unreasonableness.... The majority of the committee recommends that no change be made in the present laws of Virginia respecting the requirements for voting.’

A strong minority report criticizing the above position was submitted. A former general election commissioner in Pickens County,

South Carolina, fails to see anything vicious in the poll tax, since it is only a dollar a year and one does not have to pay it in order to vote in the primary. But he does think that “it’s a little

hard to make a Negro pay it when he doesn’t get a chance to vote.” In Pickens County the poll tax is collected along with a one dollar road tax, which is charged to all males in the county between the ages of twenty-one and sixty. In a very few cases the county treasurer collects the two separately. This has been done when candidates for school trusteeships wanted to pay up people’s taxes so they could vote. Many of them are said to do this. When people move out of the county, no attempt is made to follow up on them with respect to poll tax collection, and if a new person comes to the county, no effort is made to see whether or not he paid the tax in his last place of residence. The mills in Pickens County help with the tax collection. For

example, the Central Mill at Central and the Glenwood Mill at Easley will pay all taxes for their employees and take them out of their pay in weekly installments. They do this for road, poll, and personal taxes. The mills do this, however, only with the permission of the workers. The county treasurer states that the mills make no check to see if their employees do pay their taxes. Apparently, the mills are trying to avoid having to bother with

garnishment, since wages are garnished for taxes. But these are the only two mills in the county that follow this practice.

There are about a thousand people exempted from the poll tax in Pickens County because of disability. As the county treas-

urer understands the law, it states that a man must be 50 percent disabled to be exempted. If the man is a veteran, the treasurer demands to see his government rating of disability; otherwise, he takes the county doctor’s word about it or will “look for myself.” The county doctor is very lenient, and, as the treasurer says, after all “if a man’s sick and down and out of work, he’s 7. The Virginia Democrat 5 (July 1939): 5.

360 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

old government pension.” ‘bout as bad off as a man that’s got one leg and drawing a little

Few people are required to show their poll tax receipts in gen-

eral elections in Pickens County. In fact, the county treasurer knows of no cases where this has been required. Everyone is asked for the poll tax receipt in the school trustee elections, how-

ever, and these are definitely affected by the poll tax requirement. In the city elections both county and city registration certificates and poll tax receipts are supposed to be displayed. But the treasurer declares that he has never shown his and that he knows of no one who ever has. It is necessary to be registered with the city registrar, however. ‘The city registrar will “take your

: word” for the fact that you have ‘poll tax receipts and county registration certificates.

In Charleston County, South Carolina, 10,514 people paid poll taxes up through the deadline of 15 April 1940. The rest go “on warrants” to the sheriff, and he turns them over to the magistrates. The magistrates collect from about 2 percent of those sent to them. Neither they nor the sheriff take the time to follow them up. This means that the poll tax is not very rigidly enforced in Charleston County. There is no road tax to attach to it. The county treasurer of Charleston County thinks that, in view of the lack of enforcement of the tax, the amount collected is surprisingly good. Many people, especially country people, are

said to register so that they may serve on the jury. Regular jurors get three dollars a day and grand jurors five dollars. There are a good many Negro property owners in Charleston County—this is characteristic of the low country. All of these pay poll taxes and many of them register also. Few of them vote, however. The treasurer of Charleston County states that he does not think that “voting ought to have anything to do with it [that is, with the poll tax]. I look on it as an educational tax. That’s where all the money goes. A good bit of our poll tax comes from people who don’t pay any other kind of tax, and they may have four or five children in the public schools.” The chairman of the Charleston County board of registrars is very much opposed to any change in the poll tax law because “it saves us from having a great big nigger vote.” Furthermore, if the poll tax were not required, the juries would be “half black.” The treasurer of Charleston County declares that there is no block paying of poll taxes by politicians or by anyone else in the county, and that no industries or other employers aid in the col-

THE POLL TAX 361 lection of the tax. In the first instance, there is no point, since general elections are mere formalities in the county. The county treasurer of Greenville County recognizes that the number of road and poll taxes charged on the digest “isn’t half what it ought to be.” The reason it is not larger, according to

the treasurer, is that he has no way of locating people without property. No check is even made of the auto license applicants. There are no arrangements with employers for help either in collecting or in making up the digest. Rural people pay much better than those in the city because in the rural areas the school trustees help make up the digest. Most poll taxes are collected from people paying other kinds of taxes. No one pays it to get on jury lists, since people may register without paying the tax. The county treasurer does not think that poll holders enforce the

requirements about showing poll tax receipts at general elections except in the case of school trustee special elections. Since people who do not have property to seize are difficult to collect from, and since the amount is small, they simply do not bother with it. The poll tax is an important factor in South Carolina politics, especially in city politics, despite the fact that it is not a prerequi-

site for voting in the Democratic primary. For instance, one must have his poll tax paid to vote in the Greenville city primary. It is especially important in Greenville County, because it is not strictly enforced unless one wants to vote or owns property. John Culbertson, a white defender of Negro enfranchisement, reports

that when he wanted to get settled-up to vote in the Greenville

city election of 1939, it cost him eight dollars. He did not know what made the bill so high, but thinks that a part of it was for street tax, a part of it interest, and a part probably execution fee. He points out that all of this has the same effect as a cumulative poll tax. Only 1,822 votes were cast in the last Greenville

city primary in 1939, and Culbertson attributes this ridicu-

lously low vote to the poll tax. ,

For the year 1939 there were 2,985 road and poll tax bills posted on the tax books for Beaufort County, South Carolina. Approximately 1,700 of these were collected in the office. Another 250 will be collected by the magistrate, and the rest will be

collected by the sheriff. The digest for road and poll taxes is made up from the previous year’s books with reports from the deputies in each district, and with the school trustees and the sheriffs and deputies adding to it each year. The tax is seldom

362 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

cumulative. According to the county treasurer: “Unless we know that a man has been deliberately trying to beat us out of it, we don’t charge him back tax.” Often the cost of collection of the tax is more than the amount collected. Collection is forced,

just the same, because it makes general collection that much easier. At the present time about 95 percent of the poll taxes and

road taxes are said to be collected in this county. Since about 1932, only about ten people have been put on the road to work out their road and poll taxes. This can be done in a period of two weeks. About half a dozen people each year, who are said to be making a deliberate effort to avoid payment, are forced to pay the ten dollar fine in addition to costs.

About one hundred people in Beaufort County are exempt from the poll tax because they are “physically incapable of making a living.” They obtain a doctor’s certificate or “we know them to be entitled to exemption.” The county treasurer uses his own judgment on such matters since there is no strict rule. The poll tax has no connection with the Democratic primary in Beaufort County. The only election in that county where the poll tax is important is in the Port Royal municipal election. Port Royal has no primary, and, according to the laws of South Carolina, to vote in a municipal general election, a person must have a municipal registration certificate. A new one must be secured for each election. To secure one of these, a person is required to show a county registration certificate, plus a poll tax receipt for

the previous year, and in some places he must show a city tax receipt as well. Beaufort has a municipal primary. Rules for voting in this election are the same as for the county primary. Technically, a person is supposed to show his poll tax receipt in

order to get a registration certificate, but, according to the county treasurer, this rule is not enforced. Thus, since the general election is meaningless in Beaufort County, the poll tax has little effect upon county government. The county treasurer estimates that there are about half a dozen white Republicans in the county and two dozen Negroes who vote—all of whom are assumed to be Republicans. Negroes are

charged poll taxes just as whites are, and this practice is defended on the ground that Negroes receive “more than their share” of the police and welfare service, school facilities, etc., and pay little tax. The Southern apologist for the poll tax usually waxes senti-

mental in pointing out that the revenue from the poll tax all goes to the support of schools. This is a part of the sales talk for

THE POLL TAX 363 the tax. In fact, however, the tax makes no significant contribution to educational revenue—for the reason that it is a regulatory rather than a revenue measure and in the very nature of its operation cannot contribute important revenues to the school treasuries. The poll tax does cut down the number voting in general elections in Beaufort County, for it is the requirement that receipts

must be shown rather than the amount of the tax that affects the voting. Until some ten years ago, poll tax enforcement in Beaufort was lax, but now the officials are “bearing down” on people, and it is estimated that about 90 percent of them pay it. Women are not subjected to the poll tax requirement in South

Carolina. When these provisions were passed, the idea was to make it difficult for Negroes to vote. When the presentation of tax receipts became burdensome to whites, however, the poll tax receipt was substituted. When women got the suffrage, the poll

tax requirement was not extended to them. |

Poll tax exemptions are handled loosely in Sumter County. If a man comes in who looks like he is totally disabled or unable to support himself, the county treasurer will grant him an exemption. The special deputy does the same thing if he finds a person in this physical condition for whom he has an execution. No doctor’s certificate is required. The county treasurer estimates that there are a “couple of hundred” in Sumter County who are thus exempted. The treasurer of Sumter County is very sympathetic toward people who are unable to pay their poll tax, allows them to pay it in elaborately worked out installments, and never fails to ask after the health of the crops. He reports that $3,711.40 (includ-

ing interest at 1 percent per month) was collected in Sumter County for poll taxes on 1939 digest before the books were closed. The rest has been put on execution and will be handled with a special deputy in charge of past-due taxes. The most a person can pay for the poll tax in Sumter County is $1.50. The county has a road or street tax of $2.00 that is collected along with the poll tax, although the two may be paid separately. All property owners except women are forced to pay poll taxes. All others are required to pay “if you can catch them.” The treasurer

explains that “South Carolina has this voluntary system of taxation.”

The poll tax is said to be hard to collect in Saluda, South Carolina. In the first place, it is allegedly difficult to get the people on digest for it who do not have other property; and in

364 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

addition, the county districts are thinly populated. Until April 15, people may pay their poll taxes at the office of the county treasurer. Until that date they pay not in excess of $1.07. When the tax goes into execution, however, there is a $1.25 fee added — $1.00 of which goes to the special sheriff’s deputy who is re-

sponsible for all delinquent taxes. Twenty cents goes to the treasurer for making the execution. Since half of all tax receipts in Saluda County go on execution, the slightly larger proportion of poll taxes going into execution is not surprising. There are half as many dog taxes paid in the county as there are poll taxes. The state of Arkansas witnessed an intensive campaign for the passage of a law repealing the poll tax in 1938. This campaign for repeal was mainly directed by Brooks Hays, the na-

tional Democratic committeeman and present counsel to the Farm Security Administration. Reactionary forces in the state, however, used the bogey of Negro domination and also spread rumors among the population that the repeal of the poll tax would greatly reduce the available money for schools. Opponents were able to defeat the bill for repeal. Only one daily paper

in Arkansas, the Jonesboro Daily Tribune, favored the repeal , legislation. Brooks Hays connects the fight for the repeal of the poll tax with the fight of the Negro to end his disfranchisement. Accord-

ing to him, there exists no articulated sentiment within the Democratic party which would support a move to permit the Negro to vote and to participate in the Democratic primary. He feels, however, that many Democrats will support a move for the abolition of the poll tax and, thus, through the active participation of the Negro in this struggle, the basis can be laid for a more effective attack upon the white primary. He thinks that the abolition of the poll tax would give opportunity for the Negro to demonstrate the potency of his vote in bond issues, national elections, general elections, and in support of independent candidates. When the white politicians are thus impressed with the significance of the Negro vote, they will seek that vote.® The poll tax has contributed greatly to political graft and corruption in Arkansas politics. There is no secret ballot in Arkansas. The long ballot is used in all elections. The ballots are issued in duplicate. They are numbered and the voter must sign 8. James Jackson’s interview with Brooks Hays, Little Rock, Arkansas, December 1939.

THE POLL TAX 365 them after they are marked. The duplicate is put on record and the other one is deposited in the ballot box. The April 1939 ballot

for municipal offices in Little Rock was almost the size of a newspaper, and it was necessary to mark it in the open on the desk of the election officer.

Such obstacles to the free exercise of the franchise in Little Rock have been highly effective in defeating the democratic process and in reducing the number of voters to a relatively small number. For example, in the 1937 general election for mayor of Little Rock, only 357 votes were cast, and in the primary held prior to this election fewer than 3,000 ballots were cast. In the 1939 mayoralty election, only 1,700 votes were cast. In Georgia the poll tax is collected along with all other taxes. - Record is kept of it on the same books. It appears as a notation on all forms made out for drawing up property, land, and other kinds of taxes, and when a man has other taxes, his bill includes this notice. Otherwise, no written notice is given to him that he owes poll tax. If a man once declares that he owes the poll tax or ever once pays it in the county, then he stays “O.D.” (“on digest,” meaning that declaration is made that tax is owed so far as poll tax is concerned ). The main way the tax collectors get wind of people who owe the poll tax and who do not declare it is through the work of the school boards of the different districts. All local districts levy a special local tax that goes to the schools in that district. The poll tax also goes to the schools, but not in that way. It is sent to the state and is prorated back to the counties just as they pay it, and put into the grammar school fund. This fund is divided as other moneys are, between white and Negro schools. However, since these special local taxes for schools are levied on

personal property as well as other property, and the school boards comb their districts quite thoroughly, many people who have not declared themselves for the poll tax are thus revealed. This holds true only for whites, however, since Negroes have no such local special tax because, if they did have, they would be entitled to a share of the local school tax. In Georgia all males of twenty-one or over and all women who have ever registered to vote are supposed to pay the poll tax. In Hall County the tax collector claims that he enforces this law, and it seems that he does—as regards women, at any rate, for when a married woman is registered, the tax is put in her husband’s name. Daughters living at home have their taxes included on their father’s bill. Until recently, a woman could come

366 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

in and ask that her name be removed from the registration list and thus have the dollar charge stopped, but this cannot be done any more. In checking over the poll tax receipt and registration books in Newton County, Georgia, the tax collector estimated that there

are approximately four thousand white persons in the county who would be liable for payment of the poll tax. Only 2,707, however, were actually charged with the tax. The explanation for this is that if a person has failed to pay the poll tax for a period of several years, the tax collector is not inclined to charge him with it. About two thousand actually pay the poll tax in this

county. People over sixty years of age can become qualified voters without payment of the tax. Thus between 2,500 and 3,000 white people in the county are qualified voters. The tax col-

lector estimates that about two thousand Negroes in the county should be liable for payment of the tax. Actually, however, only

314 Negroes are charged with it. Of these, the tax collector states, only about two hundred pay the tax. This official says that Negroes are just as anxious to pay their poll tax as whites when they are charged with it. But very few of the Negroes follow up their poll tax payment with actual registration. The tax collector estimated that only some twenty-five Negroes in the

entire county were registered. These Negro registrants come from two categories: the old Negro families who have memories of past political participation and desire to continue to vote; and the more wealthy Negroes in the community who look upon registration as a form of social prestige even if they are not per-

mitted to vote. Both the poll tax and registration books carry separate printed columns marked “colored.” The tax collector of Newton County is very emphatic in his allegation that he has never attempted to keep a Negro from registering, providing he has paid his poll tax. When asked how he could then explain the fact that so few of the Negroes who have paid the poll tax are actually registered, he stated: “Negroes just don’t have the nerve to come up and ask for registration. They feel that they could not and should not register.”® The

tax collector further admitted that Negroes are definitely discouraged by the white people of the community from appearing for registration. In Hall County, Georgia, the total amount of poll taxes col19 3 Gunnar Myrdal’s interview in Covington, Georgia, 7 November

THE POLL TAX 367 lected for 1938 was $4,283. The total number of people listed on the rolls used by the poll officials in the March 1940 primary was 7,551, of whom 1,395 were listed as sixty or over. The county tax collector, when asked how the remaining 6,156 were eligible voters when the total tax collected was only $4,283, and much

of this was back taxes, explained that he did not know. A part of this was accounted for by the number of people who had transferred from other counties (and having paid up all taxes there ). Another part, perhaps a large part, was accounted for by the number who were twenty-one this year and thus did not have to pay, or women who were registering for the first time. It would seem certain, however, that a number of people in this county must have voted without paying any poll tax, though they were legally obligated to do so. According to the tax collector, the only people who are under any pressure from their employers to pay the poll tax are the schoolteachers. The last day of assessment of the poll tax is December 20, and

the payment period begins October 1. The payees have until May 5 to pay the tax in order to vote in the state primary and in the general election following in September or November. Seven percent interest is charged on all back taxes. If a person fails to return his tax by December 20, even if he is on digest, the col-

lector has a right to charge him fifty cents extra for issuing a feoff. Actually, however, the tax collector in Hall County does not charge this fee, and the bailiffs “seldom, if ever” are called upon to collect poll taxes. States the tax collector of Hall County: “T could charge that and make a couple of thousand dollars right

easy-like every year, but it would make everybody mad. You know, we got a lot of poor farmers in this county. Every little quarter or fifty cents comes hard. If you can cut it down, it’s that much more they’ve got to spend for overhauls.” In Hall County no receipts are issued in blank for poll taxes.

This is not necessary in view of the fact that the display of receipts is not required at the polls. In order to vote, a person must appear on the list of qualified voters. So little value is attached to the poll tax receipt that people often tear up or throw away their

receipts, especially those in the cities. There is no payment of poll taxes outside of the tax collector’s office, except when pay-

: ments come in by mail, and there is very little of this. There is no law requiring the tax collector to make his circuit as in Alabama. There have been no distress sales or garnishment of wages for

poll taxes in Hall County, though this is possible under the

368 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

law. Negroes who pay property taxes and buy automobile tags and the like are charged a poll tax whether or not they are registered. Most of the others have no property that could be seized. There are no school trustees to help the tax collector keep tab on them, and few Negroes register. Actually, only Negro prop-

erty owners are forced to pay the poll tax, unless they are registered. While Stoney was in the office of the Hall County tax collec-

tor, he noted the following: (1) a man came in, paid the poll tax for his wife, daughter, and six other people whom he had looked up beforehand (none had the same name ); (2) a stenographer came in and paid the tax for six people in her government loan office; (3) the tax collector’s brother stood yelling out the

door or window at people who were passing, telling them to come in and pay taxes—“come on and slap down a dollar so

you can vote.” . In Hall County a person cannot register if he owes poll taxes.

On the other hand, the practice seems to be to charge no person, white or black, male or female, any poll tax unless he is a registered voter. A Gainesville election official estimates that repeal of the poll tax would increase the local registration by at least four thousand. A good part of this increase would be women’s

votes. But the rest, this official declares, would be “a lowerclass element who have no property, no money, and no responsibilities.” These votes are said to be the “bought votes.” If the poll tax requirement were repealed, all of them would have to be

bought, according to this man, and he is therefore against repeal. A small farm owner in Hall County points out that not only does the poll tax take the vote away from many poor people, but

it makes it difficult for the poor man who wishes to run for public office. In illustration, he noted that in the recent county primary, one of the candidates for the office of sheriff:

didn’t have the money to put out like Bell, and he lost. I worked for Lawson and I know. We registered everything in this district that was 21 years old and had two legs. If they didn’t owe more’n two years’ taxes, we paid it up, but we couldn’t go no higher. Bell was a payin’ them as high as six and eight. The wife of a poor sharecropper on a plot just north of Gainesville states that her husband votes

THE POLL TAX 369 most ever time when he ain’t behind in his taxes. This last time he lacked a dollar and a half paying it, so he didn’t get to

vote. He went up there to vote, thinking it was all paid. He owed five dollars and a half, and Charlie Bell [brother of the sheriff] said he was gonna pay it up for him. I don’t reckon Charlie had it all to pay. .. . I voted. First time. Charlie Bell, he registered me, and he said I could vote without it costing nothing, so I did. They say Ill have to pay if I ever vote again.

She explained that she would vote again “if somebody pays for me.” She thinks that her husband votes for “whoever he is ast to.” In Hall County it is said that candidates who pay people’s poll taxes “don’t know how people are going to vote—or whether they

are or are not. I’ve seen it happen many a time that you give aman money to pay up his poll taxes, and he'll never pay them.” Some candidates guard against this by taking the money to the tax collector themselves. The candidates employ go-betweens in the paying-up of poll taxes. As a textile worker in Gainesville describes it:

They don’t yell out they'll pay poll taxes. Everybody’d be on them, but after they talk to you a while and know you're for their man, and you say you can’t vote cause you haven't paid your poll tax, they say they'll fix you up... . Hell, naw. They don’t give you the money. They run it in themselves.

Candidates pay poll taxes for voters to such an extent that the

tax collector of the county estimates that it runs into a “fair proportion of all that is paid.” According to the checklist of registered voters used by the tax collector in Johnson County to inform candidates and others of who has and who has not paid up poll taxes during 1939-40, it was discovered that 1,311 of the total number registered are either one or two years behind in taxes. According to the stated requirements of this county, anyone can register who pays taxes back to the last registration. In commenting upon this situation

with regard to the poll tax, a member of the county board of registrars observed: Trouble is, in this county there are so many people on there

[registration rolls] who haven’t got the money to pay up them poll taxes. They got in the habit of depending on. the candidates to pay it up, and it got to be where it was a terrible drain on them. It wasn’t so bad when they paid up 25 or 50,

370 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

but times have got so hard there wasn’t enough money in for them to put out for all them people. It was too much.

It is said that the poll tax keeps few people from voting in Johnson County. The tax collector makes out lists of all who are registered and who owe the tax, and the candidates take these lists out, bargain with the people, and come back in and pay up the taxes themselves. The editor of the Wrightsville Headlight, the county weekly, advises that: “They ought to do away with the poll tax. Things would be a heap better off if they would get rid of it and tighten up on the election laws to cut out

so much of this vote buying. They was doing it so much here in this last primary till it got to be a regular business.”

Exact figures on poll tax payment in Richmond County, Georgia, were not available, but Wilhelmina Jackson secured the following figures during her visit to the tax collector’s office

on 13 February 1940: number charged for poll taxes—1,605 Negroes, of whom about 75 percent have paid the tax and 1,500 are registered; 8,696 whites, of whom about 78 percent have paid the tax and 14,000 are registered in the county. In Greene County, Georgia, the poll tax is collected from all Negro property owners, automobile owners, and any other Negroes the tax collector can get on his records. In a recent election

in this county, an agreement was reached between the contestants and the tax collector to the effect that anyone who paid

four dollars or who had it paid for him would be allowed to register regardless of how much poll tax he owed.

A warehouse checker in Greensboro stated that he and his wife did not vote in the last county election because: “We was

| behind with our poll taxes. I’ve been a sick man. Every cent I could get together went for medicine or doctor bills, or something or other. I just didn’t have the money to pay it.” But he explained that he and his wife had always voted before. Referring to the big vote in the last county election in Greene County,

he continued:

There always is every four years. The candidate pays up people’s poll taxes. I don’t believe in such as that. It ain’t right.

You, know it ain’t.... You're not a citizen if you don’t vote. They ought to think about it when they vote, too. They ought to realize the privilege they got of electing the people that rule

over them. ... But just a heap of folks can’t get up the tax.... ‘Course the county’s got to get taxes from somewheres.

THE POLL TAX 371 As FSA renter in Greshamville who in order to vote at a recent election had to pay a back poll tax of three dollars, half of which was paid by a candidate whom he was supporting, explained that his wife did not vote because:

Her taxes wasn’t paid. She owed four dollars, and I didn’t have that much money to put out. Floyd Freeman [one of the candidates] come by here talking, and he said he’d see they was paid. Well, I didn’t see after him about it, and I didn’t go up to the courthouse and hang around, begging somebody

to pay them—I’ll be damned if I’ll ever do that—so they didn’t get paid. Her name wasn’t on the list when it come out. If you've got to know the truth about it, that’s it.

As if to excuse himself, he added: “There’s plenty around here who did go begging and then voted against the man what paid it.” This he considered the lowest trick of all. As for voting regularly, he commented: “I got other things to spend that money for. | got seven mouths to feed.” When asked if candidates pay up poll taxes for voters, the tax collector of Greene County exclaimed: “Oh, yes! They’re right nice about that.” His assistant interposed, “You don’t quote that.” To which the tax collector responded: “Why not? There’s

no law against it, and if you stay in town ten minutes you can find it out. I guess a fourth of the poll taxes I collect are paid with money that comes from one candidate or another.” In Chatham County, Georgia, no one is up “on digest” for poll taxes unless he has other taxes to pay; then the poll tax is added to the regular tax bill. Otherwise, the poll tax is issued on a separate receipt and never appears on the digest. Actually, therefore, it is not assessed. No one is charged the poll tax unless he owns property or is registered, or both. Unregistered people without property are not charged. The tax collector of the county

claims that all male property owners, Negro as well as white,

are required to pay the tax. No bills or notices are sent out about the poll tax, and no notice other than the regular advertisement concerning all taxes is given in the papers. In earlier years the registration board used to send out notices in April warning people that they would be struck from the voting list if payment of the poll tax was not made, but this practice was discontinued when the courts ruled that failure to pay a poll tax automatically disqualifies a voter and that no notice is required in order to purge him. Thus, people owning property receive the

372 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY reminder when they pay their other taxes. Non—property owners can go on for years without knowing or being reminded of their

delinquency. .

The poll tax is charged cumulatively from the time when a man becomes twenty-one or from the time a woman first registers. It has never been the custom in Chatham County to charge either feoffment costs or the extra penalty fee for late payment. When the sheriff collects poll taxes as a part of a poll tax bill, he does charge a feoffment on the whole bill. The sheriff can force a person to pay only seven years’ poll tax as a part of a total tax bill, but in order to qualify to vote, citizens must pay

all poll taxes, since this is considered not as a legal tax debt which would be affected by the statute of limitations, but as a qualification for voting comparable to the literacy test. The largest poll tax collected by the tax collector, as he recalls it, was

twenty-four dollars, though each year a number of people pay from eight to ten dollars in back tax. It is admitted, however, that a great many people in the county “get by” without paying the full amount of the tax by claiming that they were out of the state. The relatively small vote in Savannah is explained by the chairman of the Democratic county committee as a result of the poll tax. In commenting upon the poll tax, he stated: “It keeps a lot of trash out. ... It keeps a lot of good people out, too. I know a lot of women who registered eight to ten years ago, and now they can’t vote because they don’t feel like going back and paying up that poll tax.” While admitting that something ought to be done about it, he reflected that “it might turn things over to the WPA.” Poll taxes are cumulative in Savannah. If a man desired to register at age fifty, he would have to pay up poll taxes from age twenty-one. Women, however, are in a more favorable position, as they need not pay poll taxes until they first register. Following their registration, however, they are required to pay. Thus there is no prior poll tax qualification for women. It is admitted in Chatham County that the machine does pay up “a certain number” of poll taxes. Each man in the ring, disclosed one county official, “is supposed to keep up his following —maybe 50 or 100 votes he can carry all the time— if he’s a big

man. This man says that “not more than 20 percent” of the poll taxes are paid in this way. No attempt is made in Macon County, Georgia, to collect poll

taxes from unregistered people unless they pay other kinds of taxes. Negroes who own property and pay taxes on it are re-

THE POLL TAX 373 quired to pay the poll tax just like others, whether or not they are

registered. The only exemption made in Macon County, as in Chatham, is for the blind. Until the present registrar assumed office, the tax collector is reported to have generally “used his dis-

cretion” about putting people on the tax list. Few people were ever required to pay more than one or two years in back taxes, and even now, it is said, not everyone is obliged to pay the extra

penalty and feoffor’s fee. The sheriff and the tax collector frequently leave off their fifty cents fee for friends. Since it is their own loss, nobody else can complain, and it makes good political capital.

The tax collector feels that the poll tax law ought to be stricter than it is and that 1940 taxes ought to be required in order to vote in the 1940 elections, on the assumption that “any man who thinks enough of his vote will pay that.” In order to prove his point, he took out a registration list and pointed to the

names of people whom. he considered as undesirable voters. Most of these people had registered either at twenty-one or during an intensive local primary camapaign when, so he said, somebody had paid up their taxes. This class of people seemed quite numerous, in his estimation, and among his remarks concerning them were these: “No good.” “WPA loafer.” “She’s got a

bastard baby.” “Five boys in the family, and they buried their daddy without getting him embalmed.” “Been to the pen twice.” None of them should be permitted to vote, he declared. The sheriff of Macon County explains that the list of voters in the county this year is very short because of the poll tax. Many people have got behind because there have been no lively county contests. The sheriff adds: “They won’t pay until 1942 or 1944

and then come in expecting some candidate to pay it up for them. Well, they needn’t be coming to me, because I’ve paid my last poll tax for anybody.” The sheriff admitted that he had paid a few poll taxes because “everybody else that has run has paid up a few, too,” though he believes that the practice is not so frequent in Macon County as in other Georgia counties. He

says that some Talmadge supporters had paid up back taxes this year and that he could call names if he wanted to do so, pointing out that: “They’re getting ready for the governor’s race. I told them they were wasting their money. Talmadge is going to carry this county anyway.”

The Macon County tax collector admits that the poll tax restricts registration and that this explains the small vote in the county:

374 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY A lot of farm women vote once and don’t pay up their tax. It gets up to six to eight dollars. It’s too much. They don’t vote any more.

In this county—in every county for that matter—you've got two classes of people. You got people who will vote the way

they think they ought to and you got another class you can buy with a dime. I think we ought to keep this bunch out of elections all we can. Arguments advanced against the repeal of the poll tax as a qualification for voting in Georgia are the following: (1) it amounts to very little, almost any person can save up this amount; (2) if the poll tax were repealed, the state would return to the old requirement that all taxes must be paid—this would

cripple the men who are considered most able to vote; (3) it would throw open the polls to a “lower element” that is too much in politics already—vote buying would increase and there would

be more instead of less corruption; (4) “you’ve got to keep the nigah down. The only way you have now is the white primary.” If admitted to free voting, the Negro would be swung into the general elections, and chaos would follow. The registrar of Macon County, a young cotton broker, fears

removal of the poll tax would strengthen rabble-rousers like Talmadge. He is a strong supporter of Senator Walter F. George,

and he warns: “You don’t know the ignorant class of white people we have got in Georgia. You don’t have many of them in North Carolina, I don’t think. You spend more on education. I believe in that. Maybe education will do it.” He then went on to describe what might happen if “that crowd” were turned loose,

and he thinks it is a happy thing that this group is the most “violent nigger haters.” Only this, he believes, would stop their collaboration in a revolutionary force. “We're getting them in that mood now,” he added. “If this New Deal keeps up much longer—and then we have to cut it off right quick .. .” In McIntosh County, Georgia, people are “supposed to pay poll

taxes all the way back,” but it is said that this rule “is not quite in force.” Although it is not clear just how the rule is “not quite in force,” a partial explanation seems to be the fact that the collector is apparently always willing to consider that a prospective voter has just come from out of the state if that voter is on “his side.” No penalty fees or feoffor’s charges are made for the poll tax in this county. There are no rules against the paying up of

THE POLL TAX 379 poll taxes by third parties, though the county Democratic committee once talked about such a rule. It was simply taken for eranted that such a requirement could not be enforced. The last election in McIntosh County was hotly contested because of the appearance of a “new faction” in the county, and it is estimated by the chairman of the county Democratic committee that one-half of the money paid for poll taxes in McIntosh came directly from the candidates or their supporters. The clerk

of the court in Darien cited a cogent argument used in this county against any change in the poll tax law. Without the poll tax, he says, the candidates for office would “get these bastards back in the swamps and get them drunk, and haul them in here by the dozens. They do about that bad now.” When a person registers in Dougherty County, Georgia, he is put “on digest” for the poll tax. The people on digest are sent notices in November that the poll tax and other taxes, if they

owe them, are due. The tax collector states that “we do this when we have time.” No interest or penalty charges are made for poll taxes in Dougherty County. No great effort to collect poll taxes is made except in election years when, as the tax collector

described it, “we pull them in here from the street and knock them in the head to get right.” No one is charged a poll tax who does not pay property taxes, unless he is registered. Women property holders are charged only when they are registered. Negroes are charged only if they have property or are registered. There is no effort to collect tax from other defaulters. The sheriff collects poll taxes only when they are a part of a whole tax bill. As for back poll taxes in Dougherty County, there seems to be considerable vagueness. The tax collector states that most people “get by with paying three or four dollars,” though he does not make it clear how they get by. He states that in the tax year 1939—40 one woman in the county paid thirteen dollars in back taxes, and a man who registered for the first time paid fourteen dollars. In Georgia there are many transfers from one county to

another, and in Dougherty County, at least until 1936, no formal transfer was required—only the oath that the person had paid all back taxes. The tax collector indicated that this ac-

counted for the great increase in registration in the county in 1932. He says that in election years people are allowed to “pay their taxes to the candidates.” These candidates bring in “long lists” of people who have given them their tax money, and these are checked off prior to the closing of the books. Candidates usu-

376 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

ally bring in these lists on the last day. This practice is permitted

because “so many people don’t have time to bring it in themselves.”

It is admitted that candidates in Dougherty County pay a great deal of the poll tax for voters. In the sheriff's race in 1932,

for instance, “one man put in about $900, and the other man, five to six hundred dollars. Why not? They both had it, and it all goes to the schools.” Continuing, the chairman of the board of registrars indicated how the poll tax payment might be used to

| get rid of an “undesirable” officeholder: Last year the town had a mayor we wanted to get rid of. He was one of these railroad men; been in four or five years. When the CIO came here and tried to organize out at the textile mill, he went out there and tole them to join and come up to the city hall. He’d give them anything they wanted. A lot of us didn’t think it was his place to do a thing like that. We don’t want any CIO in this town. I don’t think $900 would touch the amount we put in. We got everybody out; women and all.

The registrar added that he put one hundred dollars into the kitty himself.

While interviewing the manager of a combination grocery and lunch stand on the edge of the mill village in Albany, Stoney

counted fourteen men and five women over twenty-one who came in during a little more than an hour, and not one of whom was a qualified voter. This was explained by the manager of the stand as follows: “They are not paying their own poll taxes, and the sheriff's not paying them up this year because nobody was against him.” Ordinarily, it was explained, the sheriff pays up the poll taxes each four years for the people in the mill village,

and they have come to depend on this. Until 1932 the sheriff simply put up one dollar for each. After the election, they were marked off the registration books, and were registered the next fourth year as new voters at one dollar a head. But that was broken up in 1932, and it cost the sheriff “plenty” to get elected that year. The explanation given as to where the sheriff could get the money to pay up all these taxes was that the “courthouse

pool” to which “all the whores and gamblers and after-hour liquor merchants” contribute “was the source,” and that “it don’t cost anybody much that way.” The tax collector of Putnam County feels that the worst feature of the poll tax is the way it discriminates against the “best”

THE POLL TAX 377 of the “poor people,” stating that a man “that ain’t worth nothing” will register and “fish around” until he gets someone to pay his poll tax, or will “slide around” until he gets out of it. The honest poor people, “especially women folks,” will not register be-

cause they fear the payment of that dollar annually and are too honest to try to get out of it. He named twenty or more people who he knew would vote if the poll tax were not in effect. These,

he said, had all been offered payment of their taxes by candidates; “everybody has this year.” The tax collector states that he knows this because: (1) many people come in inquiring about how much they owe, explaining

that “so and so said he was gonna help me out with that”; (2) one worker for a candidate this year came in with a long string of names, found out how much they owed, and wrote a check for

thirty dollars to cover the amount right there in his office; (3) he has done a little of it himself. The way it is done is that a man says he would like to vote for you but hasn’t got the money right now to pay the poll tax. He will have it in a week or two, but too late to pay up before the deadline. So you let him have it, knowing that if you do, you “might” get a vote. If you do not, you

have much assurance that you will not get a vote. And, if you either ask for or accept repayment before the day of election, you are sure to have lost a vote. The chairman of the Putnam County Democratic executive committee is against poll tax repeal because it would let in a great many people who have “a price on their vote,” and there are enough such people on the list now. Moreover, so many old people would get on the list, if the tax were eliminated; now they

are behind in their taxes—so far behind that they cannot pay up. He would do away with the exemption law for sixty-year-olds

because he sees a real threat from the old age pension supporters. Also, there are so many WPA recipients, FSA clients, and so forth, that it is difficult for a freeholder to have much say now. He would change the law so that freeholders would be exempt from the poll tax. He thinks every person who considers himself “important enough” to vote should be able to dig up a dollar. If there are “some good people” who can’t get up the money, “if they are really worthy, they won’t have any trouble finding somone who will give them the money.” Those who cannot pay the dollar are, in the main, the kind of people who have

no right trying to dabble in the affairs of state. He doubts that many “decent” people in Georgia want the tax repealed. It is not merely as a means of keeping the Negro from the

378 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

polls that the tax is defended in Georgia. There are many people

who think, like the chairman of the Democratic committee in Ware County, that the poll tax is acommendable means of keeping unwanted white voters from the polls or, as he put it: “There

is an element in this county, you might call it the slum of the - population, that should never vote.” The chairman of the Macon County Democratic committee favors the poll tax because its repeal would “let in a class of voters that will sell their vote.” The board of registrars in Ware County has ruled that anyone who pays five dollars can become eligible no matter how much back poll tax is owed. This was done because “so many people

got behind during the depression—good people—and they couldn’t pay up.” Even this five dollar figure is cut down for people over sixty who register owing several years’ tax. Thus, says the chairman of the board, a man of sixty-three will have to pay two dollars, a man of sixty-five will pay one dollar, and a man of sixty-six will pay nothing. Sometimes rather subtle distinctions are made in Georgia be-

tween the types of people whose poll tax is paid for them by willing candidates. The general assumption is that anyone who really wanted to vote and who does not owe too much back poll

tax can get it paid for him, at least in a county such as Ware. There is a breed of what might be called poll tax “runners” or agents who work on behalf of candidates and who advise prospective voters on how to get their poll taxes paid. One such agent in Ware County draws distinctions between those who are honest and want to vote, but cannot because of lack of funds with which to pay their poll tax, and those who are virtually professional vote-sellers:

A lot of people can’t afford to pay up their taxes, .. . and they don’t know how to go about getting helped out. | know

all those fellows up at the courthouse. ... A lot of people really ain’t able to pay. ... I don’t mean the kind that hangs around and begs people to pay their tax. That’s the kind you got to buy with a drink of liquor on election day anyway. They ought to disfranchise every one of them. I mean a lot of people are really hard up.

The ordinary in Ware County acknowledges that there is a “lot of poll tax paying,” but he is emphatically opposed to any repeal of the tax:

If you did that, a man would have to have $10,000 to get

THE POLL TAX 379 in office in this county. It might work all right in central or north Georgia, because they don’t have the voting population weve got down here, with all this lumbering and turpentine.

They liquor them up here bad enough as it is, but if everybody’d vote, it would be awful!

In Ware County the poll tax is not collected, except from those who have property and from those who are registered. Non—property-holding citizens who do not register are never charged with the tax. This applies to Negroes and to whites. There are no distress sales or sheriff collections for the poll tax unless it is a part of another tax bill. No penalty or feoffment

fees are charged. The tax collector explained that it has not been customary to assess such fees in Ware County. He acknowledges that the poll tax is “so crooked. . . . Why, my lord, .. . this last time—hell, every time as far as that goes— they'll come in here with a list of seventy-five or a hundred names and pay up their taxes. I’ve seen them pay as high as $350 at a trip.” The tax collector added that everyone did it and that he had done “a little of it” himself, because “a man’s got to.” Continuing, he explained: “But the way they buy votes here is worse than that. You pay up a man’s taxes and then you've got to watch him like a snake or somebody else will come along with a drink of liquor and he'll vote for him.” There is also “a certain kind that waits around to see who’s giving out the most money. Sometimes I think it might be better to charge five dollars or maybe twenty-five dollars to vote if it would keep that kind from voting.” This man was the only incumbent defeated during the recent elections in Ware County. The tax collector of Burke County states that candidates often

pay up poll taxes for voters in that county. In most instances the money is given to the voter individually and he brings it in to pay up. The Vestel Lumber Company of Sardis, the county’s only

industry, requires that all of its employees pay their poll taxes. The tax commissioner assumes that the company gets the permission of its employees and takes money out of their wages. This assumption is based on the fact that foremen have brought

in the total amount for the men, and then the company has asked her to bring the registration books out to the mill so that employees may sign up. This she did, and she explains that she has also carried the books out to school and to celebrations in order to “accommodate the voters.” The poll tax is not charged to propertyless people in Burke County providing they do not

380 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

register, because: (1) they cannot be found, and there is no method for seeking them out; (2) it would cost too much to have a deputy run them down; and (3) they would have nothing to seize for payment once they were found. In commenting on the operation of the poll tax in the South

and particularly in Mississippi, Senator Byron Patton Harrison said in an interview on 16 February 1940: Of course, John L. Lewis and the Southern Conference, and Mrs. Roosevelt and the President are all against the tax, but the people of my state all feel very well toward our poll tax law because the money from it goes for education. Personally I am for it, and I think there is no chance for its repeal.

It all boils down to the fact that localities know their own conditions better. I am for the poll tax because I think it makes for good elections. We have fine and clean election laws and elections now in my state. Some Northern states are lax in their election laws, and they let people vote who haven't had much residence and who don’t pay any taxes, and who were just foreigners a short time ago; but in Mississippi we

are much tighter in our election requirements, and we are better off. Look at Louisiana and the trouble it has had with its elections since it abolished the poll tax. Of course, my opposition to the repeal of the poll tax is based on the premise

that a locality knows its own problems best and how best to deal with them. It is not only the issue of the preservation of white supremacy that accounts for the stubborn resistance against the organized efforts now being made to remove the poll tax as a voting qualification. The political leaders of the poll tax states favor reten-

tion of the poll tax qualification because, having been chosen by a limited electorate, they do not care to risk the uncertainty of a political contest in which thousands of new voters would participate. Moreover, there are interests in these states which

desire that political power shall remain in the hands of the “upper class” of property-holding voters rather than in the “unsafe” and “irresponsible” hands of the illiterate and propertyless masses. The disfranchised white masses themselves, to be sure, have been—at least until quite recently—indifferent, apathetic, and inarticulate.

The total vote in such states as Arkansas, Mississippi, and South Carolina is so small as to warrant the charge that these states are ruled by an oligarchy, and of course this oligarchy is

THE POLL TAX 381 unwilling to vote itself out of power. Repeal of the poll tax in most of the eight states retaining it as a prerequisite for voting can be accomplished only by amending the state constitution. In Virginia and Tennessee constitutional amendment requires passage of a bill by two consecutive sessions of the legislature and then ratification by a majority vote at the polls. The rotten borough domination by the black belt counties in Georgia, Alabama, and South Carolina makes it virtually impossible to ob-

tain favorable action against the poll tax requirement in the legislatures of those states. In a public statement supporting the poll tax repeal amendment (No. 26) in Arkansas in 1938, Brooks Hays explained that he was in support of the proposal because he believes that “it is wrong on principle to place a fee on the right to vote, but chiefly because it will contribute something to the elimination of fraud and corruption in Arkansas elections.” Hays went on to point out that what has been happening in Arkansas is that organized

political groups are purchasing poll tax receipts in blocks in every election and giving these receipts away to their friends who will vote “right.” He called attention to the fact that in every election for many years in Arkansas the newspapers of that state have been filled with reports of election contests in which the practice has been made a matter of public record. He

observed further that in the very year in which the repeal amendment was being considered, two candidates were barred from public office in Arkansas because it was proved that they had purchased and distributed several hundred poll tax receipts in the course of the campaign. “Thus,” said Hays, “we are ac-

tually enfranchising the dishonest person who is willing to boodle, but we are disfranchising a multitude of honest people who have too much honor to permit someone to pay their poll tax.”

In a letter of 9 September 1938 to Hays, concerning his proposal to repeal the poll tax in Arkansas, President Roosevelt wrote: “I am glad to know that there is such a general move in those states which still have poll taxes to repeal them altogether.

They are inevitably contrary to the fundamental democracy and its representative form of government in which we believe.”

Those who are struggling for poll tax repeal are thus confronted with major obstacles. Moreover, there is no doubt that the real significance of the tax is not widely understood by the Southern man in the street. The movement for repeal has not yet struck a mass appeal in most sections of the South. An or-

382 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

ganizer for the Steel Workers Organizing Committee in Chattanooga points out that both labor and Negroes are handicapped by the poll tax:

Repeal that and you will let thousands of working people get a chance to say what the government ought to do. It’s the only way to stop politicians buying poll taxes. ... Most unions can't afford to play around with poll tax receipts. I know of only one local in the last few years that paid poll taxes out of

the treasury; that was a small but very active local of the movie operators. Of course, we urge all our members to buy their poll taxes, but a lot of them can’t afford that two dollars.

The Southern Planter, in its February 1938 issue, declared:

In Virginia efforts to repeal the poll tax, which amounts to a property qualification for suffrage, are being met as they have been met elsewhere with noisy political threats that such repeal in the South would mean that white voters would be overwhelmed by Negro voters in some sections of the State. Fortunately North Carolina, as Virginia’s “Nighest neighbor,” can testify to the emptiness of this threat. This publication also observed: Those who would prefer government of money rather than government by men will hide their hatred of democracy be-

hind any phrases and arguments in Virginia as everywhere else. But if there are any men in Virginia honestly afraid that poll tax repeal would mean an overwhelming of white voters by black counties, let them be reassured. There are more Neeroes in North Carolina than there are in Virginia (918,647 to 650,165), but poll tax repeal has not even rippled the race question in this State, but it has set white men free from a poll tax which denied citizenship to poverty.

In discussing the operation of the poll tax in the South, Justice Hugo Black of the United States Supreme Court stated in an interview on 13 February 1940:

It is always wise to give a reason for what you do. There were a number of people who sat in the Alabama convention in 1901 who thought it best to restrict the privilege of voting to a small group in the state. This convention was ostensibly called to disfranchise the Negro, but its real purpose was to keep the white franchise restricted and to maintain the oli-

THE POLL TAX 383 garchy in power. This same group would not hesitate to call

upon the Negro vote if it was necessary to preserve their power today.

Continuing his discussion of the poll tax, Black stated:

The poll tax is a heavy weapon with which to restrict the ballot so as to make it hard for a man with my views to get elected. I would have had a much easier time had there been no poll tax law. The abolition of the poll tax would not greatly

affect the status or the franchise of the Negro in the South, but it would enfranchise a great number of white voters, and would make it possible to secure much more liberal-minded representation from the South, representation which is closer and more expressive of the will of the population of the South.

President Frank P. Graham of the University of North Carolina has aptly written: The struggle for political democracy has, in historic stages,

centered in the battles for the right to vote as basic to the American system of local-state-Federal cooperative selfgovernment. Denial of the right to vote on the grounds of property, race, and sex have given way before the advance of

common men and women along the rough road toward democracy. Across this road the poll tax stands as a surviving barrier to the right to the participation in self-government of

Americans even now disinherited in the land of their fathers.1°

10. The Poll Tax (1940), p. 4. This was a pamphlet issued by the

Southern Conference for Human Welfare and the American Council on Public Affairs.

TWELVE

The Negto at the Polls: The Inner South

MANY Negroes in the South resign themselves to an accommo-

dationist attitude that the white people simply do not want : blacks to vote and that, therefore, Negroes should not attempt to stir up any trouble about the matter. Others, as this chapter will show, are less passive about the Negro’s traditional political

status. Some Southern Negroes are advocating that the Negro support the Democratic party for pragmatic reasons, since that party controls the South and whatever the Negro may expect from political action must come through the Democrats. The differential in registration treatment between white and Negro voters is often rationalized by white officials, as we have

seen, and even in such way as to warrant extending the franchise to selected Negro voters. In one Alabama county, for instance, the board of registrars requires Negro voters to meet property qualifications while white registrants are not so required. This is justified as “good practice,” in that it does away with the “fear” of Negro domination while extending to the “best

of the Negro citizens” the opportunity to cast a ballot. Not infrequently the view is expressed by responsible whites that “respected” black property owners and taxpayers are apt to be permitted to vote even in the Democratic primary, since this

will serve to aid the Negro in acquiring a “feeling of civic _ responsibility.” - One example of “liberal” Southern opinion was voiced by Justice Hugo Black in an interview on 13 February 1940. He expressed the view that the ultimate fulfillment of Supreme Court decisions relative to Negro rights must depend upon their 384

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386 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

agreement with the mores of the community. He does feel, however, that some types of decisions, such as those he wrote in the

recent Louisiana and Florida cases, do have some practical significance.to the people of the states concerned. This is true because all states do wish to be able to obtain convictions in their

, courts and to feel certain that these convictions will not be set . aside by higher courts. Yet a court decision affecting the rights of an individual in a particular election contest would not necessarily cover all elections and, consequently, Supreme Court decisions have less importance in this field, as is indicated by the Texas primary cases. The Supreme Court decisions, however, do have significance in charting new frontiers for groups whose

rights are abused and in aiding them to move forward in their attempt to win their constitutional rights. Justice Black went on to stress his belief that the importance of voting to the Negro in the South is overemphasized. In his esti-

mation, there are many more important problems confronting the Negro in the South—especially the economic ones—than the ballot. As a matter of fact—and he stated it bluntly—great numbers of Negroes in the South are not yet ready to vote. They have not had the advantages of education, economic opportunity, and the tradition of freedom which would make it possible for them to vote intelligently. He stated that this is similarly true

of great numbers of whites in the South. His personal feeling is that such people would be ready game for corrupt and demagogic politicians.

The really important thing in Black’s estimation will be our ability to maintain the channels of communication open and free, to give people an opportunity to say what they think, to put

health, education, economic opportunity, and contentment of the many above money and corporate interests. To quote him: The real core of the problem is economic and that must be worked out before anything significant along other lines can be hoped for. Give the poverty stricken South economic opportunity and opportunity for education, and the race problem will work itself out. Many people, unfortunately, ignore the economic nature of the problem and in raising other and relatively extraneous issues unconsciously play into the hands of corporate interests that are eager to keep people from understanding the real nature of the problem. When it serves their purpose to do so, the corporate interests of the South utilize the race issue by inflaming the poor whites against the Negro. For example, this was done in the

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 387 fight against the Wages and Hours bill, and the representatives of the corporate interests were telling the white workers that this was an attempt to bring about equality between the races and to elevate the Negro to the detriment of the white workers.

Few Negroes have voted in Alabama since 1901. According to the official registration figures in 1908, 3,742 Negroes were registered. Although there have been no official figures since that time, Professor Charles W. Edwards, in addressing the first meeting of the Southern Conference for Human Welfare in November 1938, estimated the maximum number of registered Negro voters in Alabama at that time at 1,500. This figure may now be too low by perhaps five hundred voters, due to the recent increase in Negro voting in Birmingham. Despite the severity of

its registration and election laws toward Negroes, there are some breaks in the uniformity of the state’s exclusion pattern. There are instances in which Alabama Negroes even vote in the state’s “white primary.” In some few places Negro voters have played an important role in local elections. The fear and rivalry between “black belt” and northern Alabama counties is an im-

portant factor in determining white attitudes toward Negro voting. The northern Alabama or “white” counties, with limited Negro populations, have no fear of Negro domination but do fear the manipulation of the potentially dangerous black vote by the white populations of the black-belt counties. Itis estimated that there are some three hundred Negro voters in Tuscaloosa County, Alabama. There have been Negro voters

for a long time as a result of “the type of colored citizens we have.” The probate judge admits, however, that “the registrars keep them out all they can. .. . They make them memorize the Constitution and things like that. ... Not more than five or six Negroes vote in the Democratic primary.” The chairman of the Etowah County Democratic committee considers the Negro as a voter unimportant one way or the other. Those Negroes who do vote are permitted to vote in the Democratic primary. He states: “They aren’t supposed to. It’s against one of the fundamentals of the Democratic party, but they do and nobody cares much. There’s not much restriction on niggers registering here, I don’t think. When you go a little deeper into the black belt, you'll find it, I expect.”! The Repub1. George Stoney’s interview in Gadsden, Alabama, February 1940. Unless otherwise indicated, the quoted passages in this chapter come from Stoney’s notes of field interviews conducted in 1940. —Epb.

388 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

licans of Etowah County have made no move to have Negroes register, and this informant suspected that they would be “the last” to make such a move, since they are already suspect on this point. Continuing, he added: “We have some mighty good Negro citizens in this county. They register and vote, and are fully qualified to do so.” It is admitted, however, that the number of Negro voters is small, mainly because the board of registrars makes different requirements for them. They must own property. Whites are registered whether they have property or not. The views of an Alabama state senator on Negro voting are revealing. Referring to the Negro voter in Etowah County, he

said: |

Yes, we have a few. They are respected property owners and taxpayers, and I think they vote in the Democratic primary. This is perfectly all right, I think, for those who have the qualifications. They are taxpayers, and I think it helps them to get a feeling of civic responsibility. ... We have been carrying the Negro too long on our backs. He must learn to carry his own weight. You may not like it, and I may not like it, but they have got to learn to take care of themselves at the polls as well as everywhere else. Do you know how much we pay to educate nigras in this state and how little we get back from them in taxes?

The senator agreed that the registrars of Etowah County are doing “absolutely the right” thing to register only those Negroes who have property. These, he indicated, “we can depend on to vote with the more stable element of the population. They have something to lose.” It is estimated that there are fifteen qualified Negro voters in

Greene County whose names are designated on the poll list, though they rarely, if ever, vote. Some of these have been on the list for a long time and have paid up their poll taxes or are exempt. A few, perhaps, were put on by the probate judge without the necessity of paying the poll tax so they could be used in the drawing of juries. No Negro has served, however, and it is suspected that if one’s name is drawn, the judge excuses him. This is done to meet the constitutional objections raised in the Scottsboro case. The chairman of the Greene County Democratic committee has been in Alabama and in Greene County for only six years. He comes from Wisconsin. Concerning the lack of Negro voters

in Greene County, he commented: “I was worried about that

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 389 when I first came down here, and when I go home to Wisconsin

every summer, people always ask me about that. They don’t seem to realize that these Negroes down here are not like those

few up there are. They lack the mental capacity to act intelligently.”

The editor of the Greene County Democrat is afraid of the Negro vote, for the county has a Negro-white ratio of four to one. Therefore, he is against any change in the poll tax law irrespec-

tive of the revenue it brings in, which—admittedly—is “not a drop in the bucket.” It is, however, a safeguard against Negro voting. He thinks that the registrars would be rushed if the poll taxes were abolished. There would be court cases and, finally, they would be forced to register Negroes. He anticipates that this last will happen in the next ten years, anyway, and when that happens, the cumulative poll tax will be the black belt's only defense. To quote him: “Oh! We can control the niggers all

right. If we can’t do it one way, we'll do it another. But I tell you, ...I saw that happen once. It’s not a pretty sight. I don’t want it to happen again.” He went on to tell of how his father had bought Negro leaders, persuading them either to keep their followers away from the polls or to get them to vote Democratic —this in the 1890s. Notice should be taken of the highly exaggerated stories con-

cerning the large number of Negroes who vote in this or that place. These stories travel about from one courthouse to another and are believed almost as firmly as those about Reconstruction. For instance, almost any Alabamian outside of Jeffer-

son County will state that there are at least five thousand Negroes voting in Birmingham—a gross exaggeration. In Hale County, Alabama, Negro voters since 1932 have not been given special identification on the voting lists, and since 1936 all except three have been left off entirely. A Negro businessman and his wife, who were registered in 1930, have been left off the list since 1938. This couple was able to vote in the November election of 1938 only because they went to the office of the probate judge and got a slip. Negroes are not allowed to vote in the Democratic primary. They are not permitted to vote in municipal elections either, since these are also primaries. Concerning Negro voting in Marengo County, an officer of

elections in that county, in the presence of a number of Negroes, including two Negro women, stated: “There ain’t a fuckin’ nigger in this end of the county who'd so much as go near a ballot box.”

The sheriff of Dallas County says: “We haven't got but

390 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

twenty-five niggers in the county who vote, and all but one of them are Democrats.” The sheriff states further that these Negroes vote in the Democratic primary. Of course, they [the registrars] keep them down as much as they can ... discourageit.... A nigger friend of mine came to me the other day, a doctor up here at this hospital, and he said, “Mr. Kennedy, I’ve been knowing you for a long time, and I'd like to help you out and vote for you next time. Will you help me?” You know what I told that nigger? I told him to

get that kind of thing out of his head. I told him I would ap-

preciate his support a lot more if he stayed where he belonged. .. . Some of the niggers out on my place come to me

with the same thing. They said they'd been voting in these AAA elections and they'd like to vote for me. Weli, course, most of those niggers have been with me for twenty-five years. Everyone of them would vote for me, but I told them to stay on the farm where they belong.

This AAA voting is giving them ideas they can become regular voters. I think it’s dangerous. If we didn’t have the poll tax, they would vote, too. I don’t know what would happen. Two years ago they had a bill up in Montgomery to let people pay two years back and vote. I went down there personally to get it defeated. ... Oh! I’m not afraid for myself. Every voting nigger in town voted for me.

One Negro in Dallas County has been voting the Democratic ticket since he registered in 1926. He advises those Negroes who are able to get on the voting list to vote Democratic, because “If you need help, you don’t go to a Republican senator or mayor

or sheriff, you go to a Democrat. If any favors come to you, they've got to come through a Democrat or not at all.” This man,

C. J. Adams, states that he has met with no opposition to his voting in the primary since 1926. Before 1926, however, he had

tried “many times” to register and, on one occasion, he was “run out” of the courthouse by men who said that they had orders not to register Negroes. He says that now there is no opposition offered to those Negroes who go to register, “if they know a few things and talk like they are intelligent.” In his opinion the poll tax is the big thing keeping Negroes from voting, because those who do become interested always have from ten to twenty dollars back tax owing. On election days, Adams usually takes most of the Negro voters to the polls himself. The ladies especially, he notes, feel uneasy, though he knows of no

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 391 instance in which they have suffered insults. He believes that at the last election the Negro vote in Selma elected Sheriff Kennedy, who won by only five votes and who received a solid vote from Negroes. An ex—deputy sheriff in Lee County expressed the belief that many Negroes could vote if they wanted to try, since they have both property and education: “I think they don’t know about it, or they’re scared.” He did not believe that they could be legally kept from voting. As an active politician, he felt that the Negro

vote would make no difference to him, though “I don’t want none of them running for office is all.” About the only change in

local politics that would result from Negro voting is that “it would cost more money to get elected,” just as it would if the poll tax were repealed. The probate judge of Lee County estimates that twenty Ne-

groes vote in that county. He professes to have no idea why more Negroes do not vote and thinks that few try to vote. The Negro has never been a factor in local campaigns, although Tom Heflin “talked about them a lot, and he had a big following in this county.” In addition to the qualified Negro voters in Lee County, there are another twenty whose names are on the books but who are ineligible to vote because of their failure to pay the poll tax. A Negro dentist in Opelika registered to vote in 1912, and he was one of the first Negroes to vote in Lee County after the 1901 constitution. This man referred to the “horrible” days before 1901 when Negroes were voted in “droves” and when they were “given liquor and penned up at night in the jail so they could vote them

the next morning.” He attributed the desire of whites to take the vote away from Negroes to the fact that “most of them were too damn ignorant to know what it was all about.” The few Negroes who vote in Lee County do so irregularly. None, appar-

ently, has ever voted in the Democratic primary. Nor have Negroes ever voted in the city elections. The dentist points out,

: however, that many Negroes “have the property and education” to qualify them for voting if they would try, but he assumes that they “don’t see any use in it.”

The tax collector of Lee County states that “very few” Negroes vote in the county. Those who do, he claims, vote in the Democratic primary as well, though this is contradicted by Negro testimony. He observed: “You don’t hear nothing about them,” and expressed wonderment that more of them do not try to vote, adding:

392 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

I don’t see how the registrars could keep them out if they want to. There’s lots of them who can read and write and understand the Constitution and are a lot better educated than

either one of us is... . I guess the better-class nigger must know, when you get right down to it, that the better class of white man don’t want his vote, so he don’t.

The leader of the Negro voters in Tuskegee and Macon County reports that there are eighty-eight qualified Negro voters

in the county, though a check of the registration list reveals only seventy-four. The group most active in encouraging Negroes to register and vote is the Tuskegee Negro American Legion Post. The first principle of the American Legion is citizenship and the right to vote, so the Tuskegee group is “going after it.” For the first time in Macon County, white candidates in 1938 turned attention to the Negro vote. Two candidates for one office fought for it, although one of them wasn’t man enough to come out here and ask for

it. He tried to grab a man on the street and whisper in his ear.... The other man came right out here and talked with us—face to face. He told us he didn’t want no public endorse-

ment and we knew why, but he did want our vote, and he promised to protect us if we gave it to him. He went to see every single Negro voter, and he got it... . We defeated the tax collector in 1938 [he lost by 22 votes].

Most of the Negroes who vote at Tuskegee vote the Democratic ticket and participate in the Democratic primary. The circuit clerk of Macon County thinks that the Negro vote

is getting “worrisome.” He warned: “We hold it down all we can, but we got this Veterans’ Hospital and the Institute here. They're educated, and they've got property, and there’s not much you can do.” He added that the number of qualified Negro voters had stayed in the neighborhood of forty or forty-five for a long time, but it had begun to jump in 1934. However, he feels that the probate judge will be able to “hold it down to under 200 for a long time,” and that this should be no serious cause for worry.

He admitted that those Negroes who do vote now vote independently. More than half the Negro voters of Macon County are veterans. The superintendent of education for Macon County estimates that two hundred Negroes vote in the county. Most of them, he thinks, are professors at Tuskegee Institute or doctors at the

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 393 Veterans’ Hospital. In commenting upon them, he added: “They are good voters, too. When you go out there to talk to them, all

they ask you for is little local things, and if you treat them as you should, you get their vote. That’s all they want.” This informant is sure that the Negro vote in this county is not bought; to the contrary, he believes that it is about the most independent vote in the county. He takes the position that here should be no objection to the intelligent Negro’s voting: “They are going to vote with the white people, except when they want something special in a local way, and that is all right, too. They are entitled to some things. I don’t know how you feel about it, but I think they are.” A young white lawyer who was present during this discussion

and who dismissed Macon County politics quickly by stating flatly that they are “a bought and sold proposition” stated, with regard to the Negro vote, “I guess the registrars keep as many of them out as they can and still be fair.” If the Negroes were not careful, the lawyer remarked, the landlords would begin registering their Negro tenants and voting them against the Tuskegee group, and then the Tuskegee group “would be sorry they ever started it,”

, The chairman of the Macon County Democratic committee, who is also a state senator, declared that Negro voters in the county are allowed to vote in the Democratic primary without any opposition, and he believes that it is “a good thing to have them vote in the primary. Maybe they will want to stay and will never want to vote Republican again.” When the state Democratic executive committee issued its call for the primary, this senator says that he saw to it that the local committee dropped the word “white” from its legal advertisement. He expressed the

conviction that there is “an exceedingly fine group of Negro . voters in this county. They are professors at Tuskegee for the most part. They have never caused any ill feeling. I have never heard any real objection to their voting, certainly not within the committee.” Other Negroes, however, are kept from registering by the registrars whom the senator “advises” on this point. That is, as he explained it, he calls to the attention of the registrars all parts of the law which they may use against “those whom they think will not make the highest type of citizens.”

The Macon County tax collector estimates that there are about sixty-five Negro voters in the entire county, as against two

thousand white voters. In order to obstruct Negro registration, the tax collector requires a white endorser for every Negro regis-

394 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

trant. He states, quite definitely, that in the Veterans’ Hospital

at Tuskegee and at the Institute itself there are more than a thousand Negroes who are much better qualified to vote than the average white voter in the county. He adds, however, that it

would be a great misfortune if these Negroes were permitted to vote, stating that Tuskegee Institute has been traditionally very cautious about encouraging Negroes to vote, because Tuskegee realizes that its security depends upon maintaining the goodwill of the whites in the county. The tax collector declared flatly that in the event Tuskegee Negroes attempted to register in great numbers, Tuskegee would be destroyed—intimating that the whites in the community of Tuskegee and in the surrounding area would burn the institution down. He also added that all of the whites would leave the town of Tuskegee should it

become politically dominated by the Negroes and Tuskegee Institute.?

The Negro manager of a resettlement project in Alabama criticizes the Tuskegee faculty members for their lassitude and timidity with respect to voting. He thinks they are “too cloistered.” He relates that about two years ago a candidate for sheriff in Macon County, running in the 1938 race, tried to make an issue of the Negro vote. The only eleven candidates refused to take up the challenge, however, and this man was defeated—largely by the Negro voters. He described his experiences with voting in Savannah, Georgia, while he was teaching at the Georgia State Normal School there. He organized a Negro

Democratic club in Savannah, despite the fact that the chairman of the Democratic committee there tried to dissuade him by asserting that Negroes could not vote in the city primary election. At the very next primary he went to vote early in the morning and was refused. He insisted upon his rights, however, and, after talking with him for half an hour, the manager of the election agreed to let him vote, but warned him not to send any

other Negroes there. He went back, however, and brought twenty other Negroes, all of whom voted. The members of his club in other precincts had similar experiences, though many did not get to vote. Then the chairman of the Democratic committee came around to see him after the election, warning him that he would be horsewhipped out of town unless he stopped

this work. Although he ignored this threat, he was never

molested.

2. Gunnar Myrdal’s interview, Tuskegee, Alabama, 9 November 1939.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 395 There are no Negroes on the Notasulga beat voting list in Macon County now. According to the beat committeeman, there used to be “three or four good old niggers. I reckon they could

vote now if they took a mind to.” Although the Negroes who were eligible in Notisulga beat seldom voted, some of them have served on juries. The beat committeeman pointed out that “we got to do that since this Scottsboro raping case.” He remembers,

however, only one instance in which a Negro has served on a really important case, and relates: “I watched him sitting there.

He was scared to death. He didn’t do nothing at all... . That law don’t amount to nothing.” An independent Negro farmer near Notasulga told of a recent conversation he had with another Negro farmer down the road who owns about two hundred acres of land and who had been on the voting list in the county until 1928. This man said he had not complained to the probate judge about being left off the list after 1928 because he decided the white people “didn’t want him to vote” and he “didn’t want to do nothing that would stir up no trouble. It’s all right for Negroes to vote in Tuskegee because they have education and they have the Institute there. Up here,

people are different.” The tax collector stated that he did not mind people at Tuskegee Institute and the Veterans’ Hospital voting. In the first place, this is an independent vote, and in the second place, it could never grow very large. But he is afraid “that the landlords and plantation owners will start registering the niggers on their places. They do it with the white ones right now. By God! I know they pay their poll taxes.”

The probate judge of Macon County holds that the Negro vote “is getting to be a serious menace.” It has been increasing steadily since 1936. They come from the Veterans’ Hospital and the Institute, and he states that “over a hundred of them” were registered last year. This is an exaggeration. The judge complained that the Negro registrants were not given the constitutional test. “They could have kept them out this way, but the registrars didn’t have sense enough to doit. You can’t go out and oppose them in public, because they will get mad and all vote against you.” Then he added:

Now, you can go out and talk to them and get some of their vote. You can at least keep it away from somebody else. ... Yes, they vote in the primary. People call them Republicans, but you can’t refuse them a ballot when they swear

theyre Democrats. We advertised in the white primary, but

396 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

they don’t pay that any attention ... but I think a lot of them vote Republican in the general election. Most of them are inclined that way. The fact that the elections in Macon County are ordinarily unusually close apparently places exaggerated importance upon the handful of Negro voters in the county. The Macon County sheriff feels that the Negro vote situation “Is getting bad. We ain't had no trouble yet, and I hope we don’t. There might be if they turn them loose, but I don’t think they’re

going to do that right yet.” He thinks that Tuskegee and the Veterans’ Hospital could “control things here if they want to, unless the registrars keep them out. I think there ought to be a law about putting two big nigger things like that in one county.” The sheriff did not think that the Negroes were holding meetings or organizing their vote, although his deputy thought that they could do so and no white men would know anything about it. To this the sheriff responded, “Yeah. A nigger’s a nigger, and

he always will be. They're clannish as hell. They do a lot of things they don’t tell you about.” He knew of only two candidates

who had gone out after the Negro vote, and “one of them even went out there [to Tuskegee] and shook hands with them and begged them to vote for him.” When asked if he had indulged

in such practice in his campaign, he exclaimed “Hell, no! I wouldn’t ask a nigger to vote for me if I never got elected.” The chairman of the Madison County board of registrars at

| Huntsville, in discussing the Negro vote, stated flatly that he does not “encourage their registration.” He explained that he had lived in this neighborhood when it was represented by a Negro schoolteacher. This Negro representative, it was said, did have some sense, in that he went to the state legislature with a white representative and told the white man that, since he did not know anything about all that was going on, he was coming back to Madison County to teach school and for him to send the per diem along every month. “He had sense enough to know he didn’t belong in the legislature.” A Negro voter in a small Southern town like Huntsville is something of a marked man. As one informant in Huntsville puts it, “When a nigger votes, almost everybody in town knows about it. Besides, they're the most prominent ones in the county.

I think they’re going to start letting a whole lot more of them register now to out-vote this WPA bunch.” Of the Negro vote in Madison County, the probate judge says: “We’ve got about

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 397 fifty to sixty in the county voting—property owners, good citizens, too.” He continued: “They don’t seem much interested. Theyre pretty much contented with things like they find them around here, I guess. One or two of them registers his boy or his wife once in a while, but no white men have tried to register any around here that I know of since the new constitution.”

The typical Southern attitude toward Negro voting is not confined to men. For instance, the wife of the probate judge in Madison County recited the following:

I was at a state meeting of Democratic women last year and a lady ...was telling us they didn’t have a poll tax in South Carolina and they didn’t have any trouble with niggers voting. Oh! There was an old judge there—it was the funniest thing!

He was from one of the black belt counties—probably had been sitting in the office for twenty or thirty years—-you know, one of those counties where his family runs the whole place and he never had to work for the office. Well, he got up

and said he’d tell how we handled the niggers down in our county. When they come in to register, we make them read the whole Constitution and explain every section! Hee-hee-hee, lawd, there was some woman from the North visiting ... and she got up and just screamed. She thought that was just terrible. “You don’t let them vote at all?” she wanted to know. This old judge sort of back-watered a little at that, and he said—rolling his eyes all around and looking up

at the ceiling like he was about to bust laughing: “Oh, yes! We register them if they're qualified. Oh, yes!” I like to died laughing at him.

The circuit judge expressed the thought that more Negro citizens do not vote in Madison County because they are afraid “it would raise the racial issue.” This he considered to be a wise

view for them to take. He regretted the necessity of it but thought they were correct in assuming it. The cynical and outspoken clerk in the office of the probate judge explained why there was so little Negro political activity in the county: “They don’t take much interest. That’s why there’s so few. I guess the old nigger knows the same white man’s gonna be president and sheriff right on. It don’t matter whether he votes or not. So, he says he just as well let the white folks elect him.” The reaction of the chairman of the county board of commissioners to the disfranchisement of the Negro is: “Well, I didn’t disfranchise the nigger, and ’m not going to enfranchise him.”

398 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY Although all the evidence and testimony collected in Madison County points to the contrary, the chairman of the county Democratic committee insists that no Negroes at all vote in the Demo-

cratic primary, because “the Democratic primary is a white primary in this state. Only qualified white electors, the law states, are eligible to vote.” He has a fear of the Negro vote. “Look at Memphis! And we’d have the same conditions around

here if we let the nigger vote. I guess we have about the best bunch of darkies around here you’d find anywhere in the South, but if they voted the way they do in Memphis, it would be the same thing.” The chairman of the Madison County board of registrars estimates that possibly one hundred Negroes are registered in the county. The registered Negroes, he states, “are all pretty well educated. Some of them are college graduates, and all of them are good citizens.” He adds that there has been little effort on anyone’s part to get the Negro in Madison County to register. A few younger Negroes are beginning to attempt to register. He told of registering a young Negro college graduate recently, the son of a legal voter “and a pretty good old nigger at that.” He also

explained that several Negroes had tried to register on “false claims.” One of these had been a man “from Tennessee” who could not prove that he had been in the county the proper length of time. It is said that the whites in Madison County do not try to register Negroes, though it could be done. But the chairman of the board of registrars warned: “Suppose I try to register the dozen niggers on my place. I could do it and vote them like I want to, but the next year some other man might have them, and he could do the same thing against me.” Since the white people know this, they do not desire to see the Negro vote. A Negro voter and operator of a shoe-shine parlor in Hunts-

ville said he registered and voted despite great difficulty

because:

First, I thought it was the duty of every citizen to register and vote. Then... people treat you different when you vote. I’ve noticed it. "Course they treat me too nice sometimes. I wish they wouldn’t, ’cause I know I’m going to have to pay for

it. I shine a couple of pairs of shoes and press a couple of uniforms free almost every day.... It’s not that we Negroes want any kind of equality with you

whites. All we want is peace and quiet, and security and a chance to make a living like the rest of the people. We want

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 399 to be let alone, and I don’t believe we can get these things unless we have something to say in electing public officials.

There are about eight or nine Negroes in Bibb County who vote, out of some twenty-five who are registered. After the 1901 constitution went into effect, there were fifty or sixty Negroes

who voted regularly. All of these were landowners or schoolteachers. Since then not. more than half a dozen Negroes have been registered. The probate judge declares: We had some trouble about that here a while back. Some

of the men in these mine unions tried to register some of their nigger members. They knew they could control them, you know. One of the registrars came to me and asked me what they were going to do about it. I told her to ask them this one question and I bet not a one of them could answer it. If they couldn’t, she had a right to refuse them. I told her to ask them what the Constitution meant when it said that the right of habeas corpus shall not be denied. The judge got a big laugh out of this one and explained that only one Negro got by. A rural mail carrier and his wife in Bibb County, who because of his steady income are representative of the upper middle class

in that county, were opposed to the poll tax and to the numbered ballot. But on the question of Negro voting, the wife volunteered: “Oh! It may be all right for a few nigger school teachers

and doctors to vote, but not all of them. Nuh-uh, it won’t do.” And, her husband added: “The people won’t stand for it.” While in Birmingham in March of this year, Stoney visited polling place no. 9—1, the box near the Negro housing project where about 175 Negroes cast their ballots in the election of the chairman of the city commission. This box was in a white barbecue stand and was placed on the counter. Two women acted as election officials. While Stoney observed, about one-half dozen voters—all Negroes—cast their ballots. All of them were well dressed and came either in taxis or large autos. All were treated

courteously, even though they had to move through a row of white loafers. One of the women officials was unusually kind to the Negro voters. She explained that she thought it was a shame that there could not be some way worked out so that all of the “intelligent” Negroes could vote. She realized, she stated, that

Alabama had to be careful because of the people in the black belt. “I don’t know how it could be worked, but when I see these

400 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

smart nigras come in here and vote, I just wonder.” The other woman official, an older woman, was much less liberal on the question, and took strong exception to the first woman’s “radical views, saying “Lawd, honey. You don’t know what youre talk-

ing about. You don’t know niggers. Now, I like ‘em in my kitchen and all like that, but when they commence to messin’ in politics, I thinks it’s the time to halt.” A white patent medicine salesman, who was hanging about the place, agreed completely

with the second lady: “If you don’t watch out, you’re gonna have the same kind of niggers you got over in Miami. They know now, by God, they can control an election, and they’ve got the police department scared. .. . They'd just as soon stick an ice pick in you as look at you.” This salesman had traveled widely over the South and had collected an unbelievable number of rape case anecdotes, about a dozen of which he proceeded to tell, to the silent delight of the white loafers in the place, in-

cluding three boys of less than ten years. Whenever a Negro voter came in, he would break off in his narration, resuming as soon as the voter marked his ticket and went out. The liberal lady official did not want to hear the stories at first, but after two

or three she listened as intently as Stoney and the rest. The small Negro vote in Cullman County, Alabama, now enters the Democratic primary. Cullman, a northern “white” Alabama county, has its own method of treating the Negro problem. This method is suggestive of the location or reserve policies employed so extensively to solve the native problem in Africa. In

Cullman the Negroes are entirely off by themselves in little colonies. They have their own lands, their own churches, their own schools, and their own stores. In Hansville there is only one Negro resident. As one Cullman official puts it, Hansville takes the same attitude toward them that is taken in Cullman. That is, it doesn’t like them around. Every five or six years a few—maybe a half dozen—collect in town one by one, work-

ing on the railroads, brought in as servants or something. Then something happens and they all leave. Less than two years ago, here, a half-drunk white man met a Negro in an alley at night. The Negro had no way to defend himself against the white man’s pocketknife and was cut up pretty bad. All the other Negroes left town.

The approximately two hundred registered Negro voters in Montgomery are “mighty high-class, intelligent people.” Most

of them are Republicans at heart, explained federal district

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 401 judge Charles B. Kennomer, but vote Democratic because they have no other choice. Wherever Negroes are being registered in

Alabama, he asserted, the registrars are making certain that they vote Democratic. The judge charges that when he ran for Congress in the fifth district in 1920, he carried five of the seven counties then included in that district. Etowah, his home county, “cheated” him out of the election by seven hundred votes. About forty Negroes were registered in that election, and all of them were registered to vote against him. After the election, most of these Negroes were removed from the rolls. The Judge estimates that there are between 2,000 and 2,500 qualified Negro voters in the state of Alabama, 80 percent of whom vote the Democratic ticket. Republicans have made no effort to register Negroes in the past dozen years, and no Negroes have

appeared at the Republican state convention during the last decade, because “the more thoughtful Negroes who really are Republicans decided it would be better for the party if they stayed away.”

The chairman of the county board of registrars in Montgomery indicated her attitude toward Negroes and Negro political participation in the following terms:

All niggers—uneducated and educated—have one idea back in their mind—that they want equality; but look on them for yourself. You don’t mean that we could have them in our churches, that we could bury them in our cemeteries, that we could have in our schools and in our homes any more

than we could have apes or other animals. They have, of course, a “soul” and there is a place for them. Take common

white workers—mill hands—they are also different from us and have a different place. It is just the same with Negroes, only more so. It is necessary to keep the Negro from voting,

for voting would lead to social equality. The niggers are in the majority in this county andin Alabama. They would take over the power in the state. The white people are never going to give them this power.?

In Georgia, Negroes are to all intents and purposes totally disfranchised through the operation of the white primary system. Only in some city elections, where there are no primaries, does their vote count at all. Yet the voters’ lists seem to show many Negroes who are qualified voters. The tax collectors’ lists 3. Myrdal’s interview, Montgomery, Alabama, 11 November 1939.

402 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

show still more who pay their poll taxes. Georgia would probably be a good place to base a suit on the primary question, in view of the Georgia registrars’ practice of omitting all Negro

names from the lists of qualified voters for primaries. This seems to make the exclusion official and public, even though the primary expenses are borne by the party. In Georgia, it should be noted, the exclusion of Negroes is much more complete, es-

pecially in local politics, than in Alabama. The reason is that in Georgia the primary is paid for by the candidates rather than by the state or county as in Alabama. On the other hand, because the courts have ruled that Negroes cannot be excluded for rea-

sons of color, Alabama is much more strict about registering blacks.

In discussing the political status of the Negro in Georgia, Senator George observed in an interview on 9 February 1940: In the Southeast, the negra has the status of general citizen. There is a political discrimination or what may seem to be discrimination. Actually, there is no racial prohibition against voting in Georgia, but you must understand that Georgia is a one-party state with a primary system and that the practical effect of this system is to exclude from voting those who are not members of that party. The negra can participate in all general elections, including local bond issues,

and so forth, whenever the negra becomes vote-conscious and really wants to vote. All of the southeastern states are one-party states, and these states fix their own primary laws without interference from the national government. It may be right to say there is discrimination, but this is not entirely racial discrimination. For example, there are some 60,000 white Republicans in Georgia, and since they are not in the majority party, it could be said that they also are discriminated against. We have in the Southeast the only one-party section in the country. My home county is a rural county, and

there are some negra voters in my county. There are some good negras whom I know well and who have always voted in the primaries of my county. These are not many, of course,

but there are a few. I presume they still vote, though I have been out of touch with local affairs for several years now due to my work in the Senate. I know they always used to vote.

Senator George stated it was his belief that the Negro will “eventually be admitted to the Democratic party.” Continuing his observations, he said:

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 403 You know, there is a poll tax in the South, and that is a factor that affects the Negro voter. The negra feels that there is no need to pay the poll tax since he is not permitted to vote in the primary which is the controlling election. I don’t believe we are far from the time when there will be two parties in the South. Another party is growing up in the South, due to the movement of population, the development of industry, the infiltration of people with different ideas. This will certainly

change the political status of the negra, and there will be a new understanding between the races. In 1937, when the state beer and wine law was before the voters, Ben Davis, a former Negro Republican national commit-

teeman from Georgia, was approached and asked for an estimate of the total number of black voters in the state. Davis quoted a figure of 10,000. He was a “wet” and was sent out “gumshoeing” in sixty-five Georgia counties to win Negro support for the beer and wine law. The law won by eight thousand votes, and he claims that the “wet” interests give Negroes credit for having won the election.

Negroes vote only in the general elections in Chatham County, Georgia. No Negroes vote in the Democratic primary. The chairman of the county Democratic committee claims to recall that, when Negroes voted in the city election in 1913, before a primary was declared, both opposing factions got Negroes drunk in different parts of the town. “They got them ‘liquored up’ and lined them up with guards on each side with baseball bats.” Continuing, he explained: “Of course, we are supposed to have a democratic form of government, but I have an idea the writers of the Constitution were thinking about an educated democracy.” Now, he says, the mayor of Savannah handles Negro representation through an informal advisory group made up of the best-educated Negroes in town, and “this takes it out of the barroom.” This informant expressed “disappointment” with the educated Negroes. In a special election a few years ago, he was interested in the Negro vote and called together a group of “the best nigras in town” to talk about getting support for his candidate. He comments: “Do you know the first thing they asked me? They wanted to know how much I was going to pay them. That made me so mad, I told them I wasn’t going to pay them a damn cent, and I walked out. I don’t know whether they voted | With me or against me.” The leader of the opposition to the Chatham County machine

404 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

feels that the Negro vote is “too small. We have a mighty good class of niggers here. We've never had any race trouble to speak of. I think it would be all right for some of them to vote in the

white primary. ...I don’t think they have as much to do with things in the town as they ought.” The tax collector of Bibb County points out that, according to the law of the state, if a Negro declares himself a Democrat and

is registered he has the right to participate in the Democratic party primary, since the law does not permit the party to make color distinctions. However, if “in practice a Negro tried to vote in a Macon primary, he would be asked what in hell he wanted.” The Negro chairman of the Burke County Republican com-

mittee ascribes the lack of Negro voting in the county to a number of causes: (1) the poll tax which many Negroes cannot

pay. (2) Fear—there has been so much talk about threats to Negroes that many are afraid to try to vote, but, in his estimation, this fear is groundless so far as registering in Burke County

is concerned. He claims that he has not had a person turned down for registration in the past twelve years. (3) Indifference —the preachers in the county preach “stay out of politics.” Only one preacher in the entire county is registered. The schoolteach-

ers show no interest. Negro leaders refuse to show others by their example. (4) Misuse of the franchise in the past. At one time there were between twenty-five and fifty Negro voters who took part in the city elections at Waynesboro. Their votes were

bought individually by the candidates. At the last county Republican convention there were twenty delegates, all Negro, several of whom were not registered voters. Almost all of them were old men.

It is estimated that there are about 120 Negroes qualified to vote in McIntosh County, Georgia. Of these, about one hundred live and vote in Darien. They are permitted to vote in the city elections. Since the Darien city election does not attract more than four hundred votes at the outside, this gives the Negro ballot a powerful influence. The whites are planning to destroy this influence by making the Darien city election a primary election, from which Negroes will be automatically excluded. From 1870 until 1908, McIntosh County sent a Negro to the legisla-

ture. There were Negro mayors and Negroes in courthouse offices. They were Republicans and made arrangements with white people in the county so that they too had a chance at these jobs. White people who agreed to treat them fairly received their support. Things worked out well until the disfranchisement of

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 405 the Negro all over the state in 1908. The white people did not object, so it is said, until the county was held up to ridicule by all the rest of Georgia. The state legislature sent white men from other counties into McIntosh County to act as registrars, and by this means they disfranchised so many of the Negroes that the whites took control and they have had complete con-

trol ever since. Rapidly thereafter came the loss of federal power. Lily-white Republicans now control the GOP in the county. Darien is a small community of about a thousand people divided equally between Negroes and whites. According to the tax commissioner, registration lists are reviewed every three years in the county. There are 115 Negroes registered in the county,

and 143 Negroes have paid the poll tax. The chairman of the McIntosh County Democratic committee is opposed to the proposal that the Darien city election be changed to a primary in order to eliminate the Negro voters. He states that, as chairman of the school board in Darien, he has found them most helpful. The Negro leader, who is the principal of the Negro high school, “lines them up” for the candidates he favors; that is, “the con-

servatives.” Since the Negro voters constitute the balance of power, they thus insure the continuation of this administration, and the county chairman spoke with considerable respect of this leader and of the Negro population in general. In Crescent, a small store community in McIntosh County, there are a couple of Negroes who vote in general elections, and an election official remarked: “And they voted the Democratic

ticket last time.” He stated that he happened to know this because, “man, you can tell, the way they run things around here.”

He explained that, because of the numbers on the ballot and because there are so few votes in this box, it is “hard not to notice how people vote.” Moreover, he added, “they go into the boxes” in the courthouse and check on everybody.

The following excerpts from Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews with Negro workers on Butler Island, off Darien, are probably rather typical of that section. Mrs. Waters: “Yes, I register,

but I do not vote. I just don’t have time. You see, I always be working at voting time and all like that... . I tell you I been trying to get on WPA for some time. Yes, I think Mr. Roosevelt is just fine.” Another, a girl named Sarah, stated: “I don’t vote, but what I got to vote for? Slavery days done come back. My mama didn’t know. They didn’t have to buy their own food, you know.” A pulpwood worker: “Naw, I don’t vote. Black man ain’t

406 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

got no right. Even Negroes serving on the juries are so old that they can’t get out of their own way, and all they can do is ‘yes’ the white man.” Negro fisherman: “No, I don’t vote. I didn’t pay my taxes. Tain’t much use anyway.” An examination of the official qualified list for 1940 in Ware County shows that there is a total of 3,032 white men and 2,698 white women, or 5,730 white names on the list, as against 144 Negro men and 109 women, for a total of 253 Negro names. All but six of the Negro voters listed reside in Waycross. The active Negro vote in Ware County is estimated by a justice of the peace

at two hundred, “and when they start voting, it’s a mess! A whole bunch of them came up to vote in this Justice of Peace election, and they were so impudent. Gracious! You would have thought they were low-down white people the way they walked

up to you.” The chairman of the board of registrars estimated that there are about 250 Negro voters in Ware County, and it is said that there is no difference in the treatment of Negroes in registration. A lot of those old people [Negroes] got on a few years ago when they thought we were going to have a vote on old age pensions. The rest are employees of the Georgia Power Company most likely. A couple of years ago there was a movement to take a vote on having a municipal light system here. The power company registered them up to vote against it. A number of key Negroes in Waycross were employed to round

up the black vote, and they succeeded in getting six hundred Negroes on the books. The special election was then called off. According to one of these Negro workers, “The Georgia Light and Power Company gave me $300 to pay these Negroes to get them to register. I spent all but $11.50, and all but one of the Negroes I asked to register registered. I won’t call his name.”4

The chairman of the county Democratic committee says that in the recently called general election for justice of the peace in Ware the Negroes all stuck together and voted for the same person. If that person had received any substantial white vote, he would have been elected, and by a minority made up of Negroes. “Their so-called leaders lined them up, and they voted like sheep.

That is what always happens. I know every time we start to have a bond election, they go out and round up the nigras.” This ; 940. Pr Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview, Waycross, Georgia, 20 February

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 407 man is not “against having a few of the educated” Negroes vote, but he believes that the “vast majority” of blacks have no busi-

ness with a ballot in their hands. He related that several of them—“good old darkies, they didn’t mean any harm”—had tried to vote in the recent primary and that “some white man had told them there was an election, and they came around, and asked if they could help him out. We didn’t get mad. We said that this was a little election we were holding amongst the white people and that they’d get their chance in the fall.” At the same time, however, he praised the “race harmony” in Waycross, the interest Negroes take in caring for their sections, and particularly how they assume responsibility for redecorating their wing of the county hospital. The official voting list for Dougherty County in 1932 showed that there were 4,283 whites and 92 Negroes eligible to vote. In 1938 the list of qualified voters in the clerk’s office indicated a total of 3,238 white people and 200 Negroes who were eligible

to vote. The latest available data on the number of qualified Negro voters in Dougherty County, based on the qualified list for the special general election on 6 June 1939, is 72 Negro women and 157 Negro men, or a total of 229 Negroes as against 3,741 white people. The chairman of the board of registrars in Dougherty County states that Albany has a “good nigger vote” which he estimates

at between two and three hundred, adding: “Theyre property owners and taxpayers. Theyre mighty good citizens. We’re not going to have them voting in our primary, but we don’t keep them from registering and voting for president.” The registrar admitted that this gave the Negro voters no political power, yet it did give “the good ones a chance to show the white people they want to pay their taxes to help support the schools.” Continuing to expand his philosophy on the Negro question, he observed:

You know, we've spent a fortune educating the niggers down here. The nigger race has come a lot farther than the _ white race in such a short time. You just look back at slavery times and count up. It hasn’t been a hundred years. It’s wonderful, and it’s all due to the credit of the Southern white man.

The Yankees haven't done a damn thing for the niggers, and wed be a lot better off if they'd leave us alone to handle things

as we know how to....

The nigger has saved us from the CIO. Did you know that?

Yes, sir, if it hadn’t been for the nigger, we’d have all the

408 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Italians and the foreigners theyve got up North. We don’t want the CIO down here—not in this town, we don’t.

There was a time when the Negro had a strong vote and a powerful Republican organization in Dougherty County. A Negro political leader in Albany, a former chairman of the Republican committee in the county, relates what has happened

participation as follows: | to the Negro vote, and presents his philosophy of Negro political

My people are very easily discouraged. When the white man does something that seems to cause them trouble, they interpret it to be prejudice. They are afraid they are going to get in bad. So, they say they aren’t going to fool with it.... We used to have a good Republican party here. It was controlled by the Negroes. I was chairman for many years and attended the state convention for this district. In his heart, every Negro is a Republican. He was raised that way. Abraham Lincoln gave him his freedom, and the Negro has always been grateful for that act. ... In his heart, every white man in the South is a Democrat. He was born that way, and when you see a white man who was born in the South voting Republican, you know he is after the spoils and nothing else. We had control of the Republican party in Georgia until

Harding’s time, and we were in the majority until Mr.

Hoover’s election. When the nomination of Mr. Smith motivated many white people to turn away from the party of their birth, Mr. Hoover’s advisers told him that there was a chance

for the Republicans to gain a foothold in the South if they would make the Republican party a white man’s party. Mr. Hoover mistook the unpopularity of Mr. Smith for his own popularity and the popularity of his party. He thought the Republican advance in the South could be made permanent by putting white men in control. That is what he did. Since then, the Negro’s voice in the Republican party has dwindled.

The other day in Atlanta, only four Negro delegates were named for the convention out of 14. We used to send a fiftyfifty delegation every time, even when the Negroes outhnumbered the whites five to one. ...

This has discouraged Negroes all over the state. I have stopped trying to work with the Republicans here. We are not

welcome, there, but I keep telling my people that there are more important things. Don’t worry about who is going to be

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 409 president. Local, city, county, and state elections are the important things. You must qualify and help to name the men

who are going to rule over you as sheriff, chief of police,

mayor.... They come complaining to me about the white primary. I tell them it is all right for the Democrats to hold their white primary if they want to. Negroes have no place there. That is ' their own business. I tell them when they complain, that they could break it up if they would. Negroes are over 50 percent

of the population in this county. If they would qualify as they should, they could be, if not the majority, the balance of power. If the whites would nominate someone in their primary who was obnoxious to the Negroes, they could go to some other white man and say: “Look here, we would like

you to run against that man. We will throw our support to you if we can expect certain reasonable services in return.” There is always a white man willing to run independent if he thinks he has a chance of being elected. He doesn’t care whether it is black votes that elect him or white ones. There are always some white men who have enough friends to carry them with the help of the Negroes... . One election like that would break up this white primary. The Democrats would be afraid to hold one. It doesn’t matter to me now whether we have a Democrat or a Republican in the White House. I think the Negroes will fare just about as well under either.

Negroes are said to have no trouble qualifying for the vote in Albany, and there has been a gradual increase in qualified Negro voters in recent years. The most difficult barrier to Negro voting is the poll tax. There are about thirty Negro voters in Putnam County. Most of them are “government folks,” WPA teachers, and so forth. “They were afraid they would lose their jobs if they didn’t register. The government wanted them all to be citizens. They were teaching about the government, I guess, and they don’t feel like citizens unless they're registered.” This informant, the tax collector, indicates that he “stopped” several of these prospective Negro registrants when he told them it would put them in debt to the county for one dollar a year for the rest of their lives. He says that those Negroes who do own property “pay their taxes

a heap better’n white folks, and if they can’t pay, they come down to make a settlement instead of trying to lie out of it like

410 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

most white folks.” The tax collector thinks that “niggahs would be all right voting if the whites was what they ought to be. That

was the trouble before. White fellows wouldn't leave them alone.”

A justice of the peace at Rockville in Putnam County states that he is not afraid of the Negro vote and that a few Negro land-

owners now vote in the county. He does not understand why more do not vote, observing: “ve been reading in the paper where they’re getting scared around here.” He explained that Negro voters used to be treated rough around the polls, and he supposes that they have not forgotten. He thinks, however, that Negroes ought to vote on the same plane as whites, because: “They get educated like the whites; and, the ones around here, I'd as soon have them vote as a lot of the whites... . I don’t think there’d be any trouble if the whites would leave them alone.” The registrar of Macon County, Georgia, declares that no Negroes vote in the Democratic primary in the county and that he has succeeded in cutting down their number considerably by a rigid check on poll tax payments. He is against all Negroes voting and thinks that only “smart niggers” vote. He feels sure, how-

ever, that no Negroes in the county are denied registration, though actual registration is done by the tax collector. On the basis of the registration for the 1940 election, there are 1,214 white persons eligible to vote in the county primary and 1,418 eligible to vote in the state primary; that is, 204 more people paid the poll tax after the county primary. On the general election list, only 27 Negroes are eligible to vote, and 42 are listed as in default of payment of the poll tax. According to the registrar, the few Negroes who do vote are voting for the New Deal

“since Roosevelt became Santa Claus.” The chairman of the county Democratic committee believes that the fewer Negroes who vote and the better the poll tax is enforced, the cleaner politics in Macon County will become. In the Englishville district of Macon County, the poorest sec-

tion of the county, the justice of the peace reports that there have been two Negro names on his voting rolls for several years. One of them died a year or so ago, and the other is in default on poll taxes. A white “rehab” farmer, in discussing Negro voting

in the county, declares: They don’t vote in any of the regular elections around here. ... Well, I guess some niggers are better qualified to vote than a lot of white people. They keep up with the state officers and

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 411 all. I know I don’t keep up like I should. I guess if they'd go lettin’ them vote again, they'd vote kinda like the white people

told them to. These big landowners on some of these big farms around here might start hauling them to the polls.... I don’t know. I know two or three niggers they wouldn’t haul. A lot of them they would.

A white farm owner in the Ideal district observes: “We don’t have the class of niggers here that would want to vote.” He explains that these here “know what’s good for them,” and so do not try. Comparing the present with the past, a member of the board of registrars in Greene County comments:

You talk about the way they used to buy up the niggahs. Pshaw! It’s not a bit worse than the way they buy up the whites with poll taxes now. I’d like to see them do away with

all this primary tomfollery. I was in politics back when the niggahs voted, and we never had any talk about “black domination.” | ran, and I got every single niggah in the county to

vote for me. I could do it again... . If a man had so much land and so many niggah families on his place, he had that many votes. Now, any one of these croppers out here being supported by this New Deal can vote as much as a man like me. Why, I’ve got 5,000 acres.

Upon hearing this, this man’s wife interposed: “What do you mean? You wouldn’t want me down there mixed up with a lot of darkies around the polls, would you?” To which the registrar responded: “Well, that’s what I say. I agree with you, I don’t think women have any business in politics.” . A justice of the peace in Greensboro, Georgia, and a former tax collector in Greene County, recalls his first exploits in county politics as a “nigger stealer.” He explains that the big plantation owners would drive their Negro hands into town in wagon loads. The game was to try to steal them away from him before he had

time to vote them. This was done by liquor, by music, and by women.

In Wrayswood, a farming section of large plantations along the western extremity of Greene County, the 1939 district qualified list carried the names of five Negroes, one of whom has since died. He owned one hundred acres. Another is a renter over tax age, and the other three own two-horse farms. They

vote regularly, but only in the general elections. When the

412 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

justice of the peace was asked whether Negroes who are moving back into this district under the FSA program might begin voting, he took it as a challenge and fired back: “What’s the difference? Every nigger is another vote for Roosevelt.”

A white sawmiller in Greshamville, a farming area west of Greensboro, believes that Negroes in Greene County are taking advantage of the FSA program and that “the niggers in this county are shooting way ahead of the white people, and you can’t blame them. I hate to see it in a way, but I know Id do the same if my skin was black. They're going to own this country some day. By God, if they do, they'll earn it!” He works whites

and blacks together on his jobs with little trouble, pays them the same wages, and favors educated Negroes in the jobs because “you can tell him what to do and go off and leave him.... You can reason with him.” He thinks that the Negro will be voting again in Georgia in the near future and comments: “What do you think about that? You know [ lie in bed at night and think what would happen if they did.” He states that he can just remember the time when “the plantation whites was riding the niggers to the polls.” While reflecting, he expressed the wish that “when the niggers do start voting again, I hope it's the better class first. If they don’t watch, we're liable to have the same trouble we had last time.”

Union Point is a cotton mill and trading town in :the northeastern part of Greene County. The 1940 qualified list carried no names of Negroes because it was made up for the primary. The 1939 list carried the names of five Negro men. According to the justice of the peace, one of the Negro voters is “farming for the government [that is, FSA] right across the road. Why, ‘cose he votes for the New Deal when they give him six or seven

hundred dollars’ worth of equipment to farm with and him not putting up a thing.” The justice of the peace states that at the

time of general elections these three Negro voters “come in every time. They’re mighty polite. ... Always with their hats in their hands. I haven’t got any kick there... . Naturally, they vote for the New Deal, because give a nigger a little sweetnin’ and

he'll vote any way.” The great plaint of this man is that “you can’t get a nigger to chop wood or wash clothes any more. It’s past history! They’re working for the government.” Storming against the government agencies, especially the WPA, the FSA, and the CCC, he raged:

Who are they helping? Tell me, who are they helping? A

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 413

lot of sorry, damn niggers! They put them out at this CC Camp where they spend their time scouting around in the woods trying to hide from work. They put them on this W.P.A.

and let them go to sleep on their shovels. They put them out on these farms with a brand new plow and a good mule, and a hundred dollars’ worth of seed and fertilizer, and let them waste it. In Gainesville, the Negro vote has been steadily decreasing. The older Negroes are dying off, and the young ones are not registering. The reason for this is said to be because they see no use in paying the poll tax to vote when they can vote only in the general elections. Referring to Negro participation in the Democratic primaries in Hall County, the secretary-treasurer of the county Democratic committee states: “Niggers have been ruled

out. It’s our private affair, and we don’t invite them in, and that’s that.” A poor white farmer, after pointing out that only a few Negroes vote in the general election in Gainesville, and not in the primary, commented: They voted a long time ago before they had any primary, I think. You know, I don’t know what you think about it—this is afunny thing for me to say I guess you'll think—but I don't think that’s just right. Niggers pays taxes the same as we do. There ain’t much difference in us when you get right down

and think about it. We all eat and we all wear clothes, and we all rot when we die. . . . Lots of people are prejudiced on the nigger. [ ain’t. I was born in the South, and I’m a Southerner, all right, but it don’t look right to me. George Stevens, a seventy-two-year-old Negro businessman in

Gainesville, has been voting since he was twenty-one. He was born in the upper end of Hall County, the son of a slave who could read and write. He was taught to read and write by his father. When he was twenty, he recalls, some white men came up from town and talked him into coming down to Gainesville and helping them with their political campaign. He did help them each election for several years. These white leaders, together with himself and other Negroes, would get Negroes from all over the county, keep them in the Negro Odd Fellow’s Hall all

night before election—‘“keep them up all night laughing and chewing plug tobacco and as much liquor as the white men would give them.” Stevens described this as a grand frolic. The

next morning they would all file out, go down to vote, and

414 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

then go home to sleep it off. He asserts that things happened this way “for 10 or 15 years,” but then he realized after a while what

harm this was doing to his race. He tried to get other Negroes

interested in voting more intelligently. He and one of the teachers in the Negro school were making a small beginning when the disfranchisement of 1908 came. Following 1908, Stevens and the few Negroes who reregistered—he estimates something over two hundred—went into the Republican party.

At present Stevens thinks there are some forty Negroes eligible to vote in Hall County. Of these, approximately thirtyfive are over sixty, and not more than half of them actually vote.

When Stevens sent his assistant up to get registered recently, he was refused. The man at the desk wanted to know why he wished to register. The assistant replied that he wanted to be a citizen. The registrar told him that he could be a citizen with-

out “messing with voting.” The assistant then explains: “I looked at him and left. I didn’t want no trouble.”

Stevens himself votes occasionally in the city elections in Gainesville and believes that three or four other Negroes do also. There is no city primary. Recently a candidate for sheriff called at Stevens’ shop and asked him to vote for him in the primary.

Stevens says: “I had know’d that man all his life. I know’d he would be good to the colored folks. I wanted to vote for him. I went up there, and they told me I wasn’t on the list. That was like a slap in the face tome... me, who'd paid taxes in this town ali these years. ... Tl never try that again.” There is a tendency among old-timers in the South to date

the beginning of “clean politics” with the disbarment of the Negro from the polls. For instance, the clerk of the court in Gainesville claims that politics have been “reasonably clean” in Hall County since 1906 and 1907. He recalls that in that period he was a young fellow engaged in carrying people to the polls: A little money and a little liquor, and you could carry every

nigger in town. We'd get a bunch of niggers and keep them locked up in the Odd Fellow’s Hall all night—feed them peanuts, cheese, and crackers, and give them just enough liquor to keep them happy. ... Get a string band in there to supply a little music. The next morning we'd march them out like a bunch of convicts and vote them. Before the days of the Australian ballot, they used to take them from one county to another. J never did that.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 415

The tax collector in Augusta, a member of the “Cracker Party,” informed Miss Jackson that there are about thirty-five Negroes in the city who actually participate in the so-called “white primary,” though he was not very explicit on this point. There is a feeling among a number of Negroes in Augusta that

the grip of the underworld on the black masses is so strong that, even if allowed to vote in all elections, the Negro vote would find it extremely difficult to be intelligently independent. There are 344 Negroes registered and qualified to vote in the Brunswick, Georgia, elections. According to an elderly Repub-

lican leader in Brunswick:

Sometimes the Negro vote counts here. A few months ago we had an office opened for reelection—tax commissioner. There were 2,000 registered voters in the city—-Negroes and whites. It was realized that Negroes actually held the balance of power. A half dozen men came to see me on reelection. We

cast our votes for Exley, who won the election (filling an unexpired term ). If we could get a thousand votes, we could break up the white primary. Last week the Republican club put on a campaign to register as many Negroes as possible, and formed a young men’s and young women’s club in order

to get a pretty sizable number around the handicap of poll taxes. No, we have no Democrats among our local Negroes who vote, yet we all voted for Roosevelt in 1932 and 1936. Three or four years ago the lily-whites and the Republicans got together. Under the Hoover regime, we had a postmaster here—Smith—who went right out to replace all of the colored carriers. ... The state-wide lily-white movement affected Brunswick, too. Today, we have two factions here—the lilywhites and the colored Republicans. This is our main reason for turning against Hoover.®

It is said that of the three-hundred-odd Negroes registered in Brunswick, only about fifty-five actually vote. The Negro long-

shoremen in Brunswick are organized but are not politically active. The shrimp workers and power workers are not organized, and labor is not a potent political factor. Some efforts are

now being made by Brunswick Negroes to organize Negro women and Negro youth. It appears that the younger Brunswick

Negroes are no longer blindly loyal to the Republican party io i Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview, Brunswick, Georgia, 16 February

416 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

and that the advent of Roosevelt and the New Deal has caused a number of them to switch political allegiance. Judge Orville A. Park, writing on the Georgia political system

for the Coordinating Committee of the Citizens’ Fact Finding Movement, deplores the disfranchisement of the Negro: This disfranchisement of the Negro is thoroughly undemocratic and is more hurtful to the white than it is to the Negro. In a democracy all citizens must be equal before the law, and

political opportunities and political privileges must be accorded alike to all. It is said, of course, in justification of the present system, that the great mass of the Negroes are ignorant and venal, having no knowledge of or regard for the duties of citizenship. The same may be as truly said of a very considerable proportion of the whites. There is no more reason why an ignorant and venal white man should vote than that his brother in black should do so. All of us know that there are intelligent, upright Negroes who understand and who would appreciate the duties of citizenship and exercise the right of suffrage with equal intelligence and as consis-

tently as the white man does. It can but be humiliating to such Negroes that they are denied all participation in the government solely because of. their race. What incentive is there for the Negro to improve himself, to learn the problems

of Government and to be prepared to participate therein, when all participation is denied him? We have used the Negro as a sort of club to hold whites in line. We talk of Negro domination when all of us know that

there is no fear of such domination. It was a great mistake when the Reconstruction government after the War gave the ballot to all the Negroes. They did not know how to use it and

they fell easy victims to designing politicians. It would be a | mistake now to let all Negroes, regardless of qualification, intelligence or character, vote, but we cannot justify the denial of the ballot and all participation in public affairs to Negroes

of intelligence and character who have demonstrated that they are good citizens, and there are many such.®

It is estimated that not more than 1,500 Negroes now vote in the entire state of South Carolina. The decline of Negro political participation in this state has been attributed to two main causes: (1) intimidation of the Negro at the polls and 6. In The Georgia Political System, May 1938, pp. 10-11.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 417

(2) the institution of the formal Democratic party, with its ward club system. George Stoney was unable to find any Negro

members of the primary ward clubs in South Carolina. Many of the older Negro voters, however, do seem to be voting Democratic, partly because of the New Deal and partly because they are disgusted with Joseph W. Tolbert, a prominent Republican

puts it: |

3 leader who has played for Negro support. Although not an active factor, the Negro is an influence in South Carolina politics. As the editor of the Columbia State

| Directly, the Negro is a negligible factor in South Carolina politics. Indirectly, and as a backdrop, the Negro is the most powerful political factor in South Carolina. Candidates’ whole

activities are based on the predicate that Negroes might get something, and one of the main appeals in their campaigns is keeping the Negro out of affairs of state.?

The Charleston News and Courier takes a stand against the participation of Negroes in politics on the same basis as whites. The following is quoted from Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview with William Watts Ball, the old-time editor of the News and Courier:

You want to know about nigroes in politics? Well, they aren’t in politics now, but they have had a history of political

participation which, up until 1877 and the inauguration of Wade Hampton as Governor, was quite great. After the election of Hampton, due to a bit of gerrymandering, a Seventh District was created including Beaufort, Berkeley County,

Richland County, and so on. From this “black district,” as it | was popularly called, came the nigro congressman, Robert Small. At this time, too, there came into being the “eight box”

law which, in effect, was a literacy test. One was a box for federal officers, one for state, county, and so on. Of course, if one could not read, he wouldn’t know who to vote for, and he wouldn’t know when he voted wrong nor when his vote was

thrown out. This kept quite a few nigroes out. Of course, I have no doubts but that the ignorant whites, who it would have caught, were just voted on in. Despite these handicaps, nigroes were voting in collaboration with greenbackers and Republicans in 1882—-a Methodist minister and two nigroes 7. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview, Columbia, South Carolina, January 1940.

418 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

ran on an independent ticket in the up-country for state legis- _

~ jature. They didn’t win. , | Now, there came into existence Tillman, a man who sought to gain power in the state—elected Governor in 1890, There was held a constitutional convention, one of the results of which was the famous alternative clause-——-property versus | education as a prerequisite for voting. Immediately, of course,

this disfranchised the vast majority of nigroes, although I | have no doubt but that numerous allowances were made for the poor whites. The Supreme Court upheld this law. Nigroes were dealt a severe blow by this. Their feelings hurt as years went by, the nigro vote became less and less until finally it reached the place it has now, where only 1,500 votes were cast in the entire state. The law of the Democratic party, that

| only people who had relatives who voted for Wade Hampton in 1877, I do not believe is fair, because most of the nigroes , voted for Chamberlain—Hampton’s opponent. What happened to the seventh district? It disappeared in the census, and the heavy migration destroyed it anyway. Now, I believe nigroes should be in politics. In the first place, let me say this. I do not believe in Democracy with a small “d”. I believe in Democracy with a large “D”. Only the best qualified in both

races ought to participate in politics. The nigroes should

, have a black party with a black primary. You know, the | Democratic party in the South is strictly a racial party. They should release “tieless” Joe and the Republicans entirely. The

| membership is kept small so patronage distribution won't _ have to go but so far. This cream of both races, voting in their

_ separate primaries, would make politics approach something _ near good. Now get this straight. I like nigroes. Why, when I was a boy, I played with little nigroes on my grandfather's plantation, and when I go in a public place, I want a nigro servant. White servants leave something lacking. I don’t like to face them. Yes, the nigroes are good at nursing, cooking, and so forth, in the mass, but the cream should do the politicalizing. In the opinion of Tom Stoney, an ex-mayor of Charleston, the

New Deal is no kin to the old Democratic party because it has done three things which are against the basic principles of the

older organization: (1) it has betrayed the old stand on the tariff; (2) it has turned its back on state rights and has endorsed the centralization of power; and (3) it has taken the Negro into

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 419 the body politic. With regard to the last, this warning was issued.

_I don’t blame the nigra for trying to get in. I have done everything in my power to give the black man everything that he should have, But, I tell you, we are coming on bloody times

when he becomes a part of our voting public. I say, I don’t

| blame the nigra for trying, but I shudder to think what will happen when we return to the days of Reconstruction. We are going to have more and more trouble with him as times go on.

Personally, I have nothing against the black man. But, I think God must have had something in his mind when he made one race black and another white. If he hadn’t intended for there to be a difference, he would have made one yellow race. Stoney stated that the few Negroes who vote in the general elec-

tion in Charleston would not number three hundred and that,

until they had started voting Democratic, their votes were

“seldom counted.”

According to the clerk of court in Charleston, there are be- | tween eight hundred and a thousand Negroes registered in Charleston County out of an approximate total registration of ten thousand. Negro preachers in Charleston, as a group, are only mildly interested in black political participation, though two of them actively encourage it. A few whites, mainly identi-

fied with the Tolbert Republican faction, covertly urge Negroes to try to vote. Negroes estimate that about 1,200 Negroes are now registered in Charleston, a considerably larger number than officials report.® It is related that when John P. Grace was mayor of Charleston some years ago, he contacted a prominent Negro

on the quiet and asked how many Negroes were registered. When Grace discovered that there were only 328 Negroes regis-

tered, he responded: “I’m sorry. I can’t use 328. It will do me more harm than good. The Negro is a political nonentity.” The strategy of the NAACP in Charleston is to get Negroes registered whether they vote or not, so that the black vote will loom as significant. It is felt that when it does, the white candi-

dates will bid for it, and that this will tend to break up the Democratic primary. There has been no restraint placed on the registration of Negro women in Charleston. A Democratic politician in Charleston states quite frankly that he has no objection 8. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews in Charleston, South Carolina, 11

April 1940.

420 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY .

bear it. , ,

‘to Negroes voting in the party primary, but that they already

have the poor whites to buy. The Negro vote would greatly in- ,

crease the cost, and he is afraid that the machine could not :

This tendency of the Negro to permit himself to be bought politically is often condemned as a fatal weakness. For example, Dr. McFall, Sr., a prominent Charleston Negro, said in an interview on 28 October 1939: In an election of a board of assessors a few years ago—ten men to be elected——a primary was not held. At that time,

about 600. Negro votes could be used and would have meant , election of the men receiving the Negro vote. A group of Negro

leaders, representing this vote, held a caucus and selected a slate, extending a complimentary vote to the men selected. Three men, prominent in the Democratic party, were to be given unqualified complimentary support. Others were to be questioned as to their attitudes toward the assessment of Negro property, for there had been some abuses in such assessments: One of the members of our caucus decided to sup-

port a slate other than the one selected by the caucus for a

| twenty-five-dollar contribution from a white group. In the northern part of Charleston County, in the corner between Berkeley and Dorchester counties, is Lincolnville—an almost entirely Negro community. Lincolnville is a settlement on the railroad, an incorporated village of some three hundred people today. The village was established shortly after the Civil _ War when it was given a charter, and since that time it has had a municipal government completely manned by Negroes. At one

time, it is said, the village had almost a thousand inhabitants

and boasted some two hundred voters. Now the vote has

dwindled to forty-nine. In general elections, Lincolnville is included in the Lawson precinct, and registration in that precinct, as of May 1940, was sixty-nine whites and forty-nine Negroes. The population of the village has dropped because of the loss

of the phosphate mine. The village must—according to state statute—hold an election every year. To vote in this election, a person must get a special municipal registration certificate. Negroes in Lincolnville give out these certificates. But in order to get a certificate, one must show a county registration certificate plus a poll tax receipt. In order to get one of these, it is necessary

to go to Charleston on the first Monday in the month, and Lincolnville Negroes have found that after this lengthy trip it is

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 421 often necessary to wait about the office for many hours. As one Negro storekeeper in Lincolnville put it: if one “behaves himself,” he “can get a registration certificate at Mr. Burk’s drugstore in Charleston.” The young people of Lincolnville are moving out in order to get work in Charleston or are going North, and the older people are dying off.

Lincolnville Negroes do have some slight voice in county affairs, and this is expressed in the election of school commissioners for their districts. Three of these commissioners are elected in a general election. Since there are almost as many Negroes voting in Lincolnville or in Lawson district as there are whites, they have effective power. Recently the chairman of the

school commission tried to switch the voting for the commissioners to the Democratic primary. The Negroes of Lincolnville got back at him by voting solidly against him the next time. Al-

though he was not defeated as a school commissioner, he did lose the chairmanship. Lincolnville Negroes claim to have the best rural Negro school in Charleston County. It has two hun-

dred pupils and nine grades. Lincolnville has its own town constable, and Negroes boast of the fact that “we don’t have any of this business of a sheriff’s deputy entering a house without a _ warrant or anything like that.”

On the Sea Islands off Charleston, Negroes have little political privilege. On Edisto Island it is said that only fifteen out

of three thousand Negroes are registered to vote. On James Island thirty out of six thousand are registered. And on John’s Island itis said that only twenty-five Negroes are registered, and, of these, only seven or eight vote.®

In Greenville only a handful of people vote in the general election. In October 1938 there were only thirty-five Negroes in Greenville County qualified to vote. Yet the white press played

this figure up as though it were a significant number. Early in the spring of 1939, a number of Negro organizations in Greenville began to devote attention to the Negro’s political status. It was discovered that there was general ignorance among Negroes about their disfranchisement. The NAACP, the Youth Council of the NAACP, the Negro Division of the Greenville Council, and other groups began to get active. In the spring of 1939, at the annual meeting of the Interracial Commission held in Greenville, Arthur F. Raper spoke on the white primary and 9. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews in Charleston County, South Carolina, 24 January 1940.

422 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

the poll tax and stated that not until these two evils were removed would Negroes get out of the rut they are in. Following this meeting, the Greenville County Council held a mass meeting at Textile Hall at which Mary Bethune spoke. The keynote of

her speech was “get representation.” In May and June of the same year, the Youth Council sponsored two forums on youth and democracy, and these meetings were announced through the papers. At this same time, the Greenville County Council began to agitate for a housing project for the city. The federal government had earmarked $800,000 for the Greenville project, and Negroes had worked very hard for it. They had circulated a petition to which they had attached six hundred signatures. But the whole movement was defeated because of the opposition of the organized real estate interests in the city. The agitation for a Negro park was continued. All of this activity stimulated Negro registration. In May of that year, sixty-five Negroes were registered. In July forty more were registered, and another hundred were put on the roll before the closing date. The Negroes had the idea of flooding the general election and sponsoring an indepen-

dent candidate.

Sensing this, the white population became excited. They saw

that the CIO, the Workers’ Alliance, and possibly some disaffected whites were beginning to cooperate with the Negroes. An extensive underground movement began. The president of the Workers’ Alliance was arrested three times in one week. The

Ku Klux Klan became active and in late October of that year took a war veteran out and beat him badly. Fifty Klan members went after a Negro professor and invaded eight Negro homes in search of him. The Greenville newspapers contributed to the hysteria by running such headlines as “Registration Among Ne-

groes Increases” and by printing pictures with such captions as “Only a Few of Many Negro Women Registering.” An editorial in the Greenville News of 7 July 1939, entitled “General Election Voting,” observed: “If Negro citizens find it worthwhile

to take an active interest in voting in this general election, certainly white citizens should realize the wisdom of performing their civic duty at the ballot box. ... For our elections have been characterized by the casting of only a handful of votes.” The intimidation efforts of the Klan and of other groups in Greenville apparently attained their purpose, for less than a tenth of the registered Negro voters were out on general election day. 10. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview with R. O. Johnson, Greenville, South Carolina, 3 February 1940.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 423 Since the 1939 episode, work in behalf of Negro voting in Greenville has gone quietly. Negroes are urged to go in and register one or two at a time. According to the chairman of the board, Negroes are not coming, however. But there have been some first signs of Greenville’s recognition of the needs of its Negro citizenry. An announcement was recently made that two fully equipped playgrounds for Negroes would be built with WPA money and the newspapers printing the story emphasized, with comment, that these playgrounds would be just like those for the whites. The Negro in Greenville has always been an important force

in local politics, not as an active voter, but as a bogey. The strength of this must be fully realized before the community up-

risings that followed the attempts of a handful of Negroes to register for city elections in 1939 can be understood. According to Joseph Dokes, a student of the Negro in Greenville:

Of the 250 Negroes who are qualified to vote in municipal elections here, all have to have two registration certificates. The approximately 600 Negroes registered for county, state and national elections have to have only one receipt; those registered and qualified for municipal elections have to possess property tax receipts within the city. Some of these Negroes vote in the general election for Democratic nominees; in the state and national elections, they are divided—-some voting the Republican, some the Democratic ticket. With regard to the 1939 episode, the same source writes: Even though there were 250 Negroes who qualified for vot-

ing in the municipal election in September 1939 in Greenville, only 54 of them voted. All of these voted for the Democratic nominees for municipal offices. In the same election, of the 2,224 registered voters of the city, only 551 persons voted. This was a greater number than is usual for the general elections in the city.

The president of the South Carolina League for Progressive

Democracy (Labor’s Non-Partisan League) states that the League had nothing to do with the attempt to get Negroes registered in Greenville in the summer of 1939. Expressing his personal view, he argues that the Negro can get what he needs, and can get it much better, in other ways than through the vote. He feels that labor really has nothing to gain from Negro exercise of the franchise, although he believes that if labor “got in,” the Negro could look to it for a “square deal.” The TWUA orga-

424 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

nizer for Greenville admitted, however, that his organization did get involved in this attempt of the Negroes to register. Since the Workers’ Alliance, which gave the strongest backing to the movement, used the TWUA office as headquarters, the TWUA

“got smeared.” “Personally,” this organizer said, “I think the niggers ought to have the right to vote. Theyre citizens, like everybody else. I'd do most anything I could personally to help them get it.” Yet he felt that he could not jeopardize the welfare of his union for this. He could see no immediate advantage for the TWUA in having Negroes registered, but added: “Sooner or

later, we’ve got to get them because we're not going to have enough by ourselves.”

A prominent Greenville Negro who votes because it has been “a tradition” in his family to vote believes in Negroes’ registering and asserting their political rights, but he says they must do this

in “a dignified way.” This man had no stomach for the efforts made in the summer of 1939 on behalf of Negroes in Greenville.

He feels that this movement for Negro enfranchisement was backed by the “wrong people”—-the Workers’ Alliance and “that bunch.” Almost everyone who was registered for the first time,

he states, was a relief worker or unemployed. There was not a really well-established Negro in town behind the movement except “Jim” Brier, head of the NAACP. Brier, he states, was really the worker for the entire movement. It was Brier who put the

Negroes out in front of the courthouse to direct the people coming’in to register. “That,” said this man, who is head porter at the Greenville Hotel, “was alright for 1866, but now if Negroes need that kind of help, they shouldn’t be trying to vote.” Professor Brier was pushed out of his place as school principal for his NAACP activities before the registration fight be-

gan. During the registration fight, Brier received many notes from the Ku Klux Klan, but managed to escape without harm. The Negro porter would give Professor Brier credit, however, for being the only Negro Republican in the state who has really worked to get his people enrolled: “Too many of our race are content to be the only one. They rather pride themselves on being the only one.” Brier went to the Republican national convention at Philadelphia as a member of the Hambright faction, led by Greenville’s richest banker, George Norwood. Brier’s “pull”

with Negro delegates from other states helped the Norwood group gain recognition over the Tolbert faction at the convention. This may mean that Professor Brier will have Norwood’s protection, if not his support, when he returns to Greenville.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 425 It is said that many Negroes in Sumter voted for Roosevelt in 1936. No Sumter Negroes have ever tried to vote in the Demo-

cratic primary, however, other than two “Wade Hampton” Negroes. The Sumter Item of 4 November 1936, reported: “President Roosevelt received a considerable portion of the negro vote cast in South Carolina, reports from election officials today indicated. More negroes than usual voted in a number of South Carolina counties this year, though no special check was kept of the part they played in the election.” Only a few Negroes vote in the general elections. The town of Sumter has two lively but _ small Republican groups. The Tolbert faction is “all niggers” in Sumter, says the chairman of the county Democratic committee. The other faction is “lily-white” and is made up of people from Missouri who came to Sumter to set up cooperage plants, some people from Virginia who established businesses in Sumter, and other out-of-staters. The chairman emphasized that only one native-born South Carolinian “is connected with that bunch.” He did have a good word for some Negroes, however, commenting that the town has had some “mighty good niggers,” including a Negro physician (whom he referred to as “nigra” instead of

“nigger”) recently deceased, a retired Negro mail clerk, and several others whom he called “mighty decent citizens.” In Columbia one man has dominated the local political scene for the past fifteen years—Mayor Owens. His long service in office has enabled him to build up a powerful personal political machine. Mayor Owens is convinced of the wisdom in the nonparticipation of Negroes in politics. The only elections worth mentioning in Columbia are the primary elections. The Republican vote is of no consequence. Campaigns are intense during the primaries but are not even conducted during a general election, when little voting is done. Some Negroes in Columbia do

vote. The voting is confined, however, to local bond issues and | to presidential elections. Negroes in Columbia do not evidence a great deal of interest in voting since they are excluded from participation in the Democratic primary, which is the real elec-

tion. The feeling seems to be that they are parties to a farce when they participate in the general election." There are only about one dozen Negroes in Columbia who vote in the general elections. Negroes do not vote at all in the Democratic primary, for in the Democratic Party Rules, section __ 11. Attitudes based upon returns on questionnaires and Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews with five Negro civic leaders, Columbia, South Caro-

lina, 24 January 1940. .

| 426 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

_. primary: _ : !

ss 7, there is this statement concerning Negro voting in the party

: _ Every Negro applicant for membership in a Democratic , Club or offering to vote in a Democratic Primary must show a

written statement of ten reputable white men, swearing to —

| their own personal knowledge that applicant voted for Gena eral Wade Hampton in 1876 and has voted Democratic ticket continuously since then. For every Negro so voting, a note shall be made, put in the ballot box and manager of elections —

| shall keep it separate from all other votes and turn it in [with

general voting report]. : |

a - The secretary of the Richland County Democratic club stated that there are no Negroes now living in Columbia who could ©

_. comply with those regulations. | |

In 1934 Dr. Mance, a Columbia Negro, registered as a Demo- |

erat. He encouraged other Negroes to do the same, and finally nearly a hundred Negroes got on the roll. About a week and a half before the primary election was held, however, all of these Negroes received a card asking them to come and show cause why their names should not be purged from the Democratic club roll. When the Wade Hampton clause was read and when it was asserted by the reader that most white men could comply,

Dr. Mance argued that white women—if registered—would also have to be purged because in that year they were not conStitutionally eligible to vote. The names of the Negroes were purged, however, and Dr. Mance and several others took the case to court. In the meantime, the primary was run off and the court held that the Negroes bringing suit were too late in so _ doing, as contests of that nature must be brought a reasonable time before the primary is held. Their objections that they were sent cards too late were to no avail, and the case was thrown out./* Subsequently, the Democratic rules were changed, and section 7 now reads: “Any white man—21 years of age and | Oover—may apply for membership in this club and vote in the

Democratic primary.”

| There are some prominent whites in Columbia who feel that Negroes should be permitted political participation. The editor |

of the Free Press reprinted in that paper an editorial from the Charleston News and Courier endorsing the Negro vote. The 12. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview with Dr. Mance, Columbia, South Carolina, 18 January 1940.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 427 Reverend Clyde Helms, chairman of the Social Service Commission of the Baptist Churches of South Carolina, submitted a re-

port and a resolution at the last Baptist state convention stating that the right of Negroes to participate freely in elections should not be denied. This report read: In most sections, the Negro is denied the ballot. Everyone is agreed that wholesome restrictions should be placed about the ballot, but every citizen who is qualified to vote should be permitted to do so. There is good reason to anticipate social upheavals in any commonwealth in which a minority group —composing 45 percent of its population—is denied the ballot simply because of its color. No race can attain its highest development where its qualified members are denied a voice

in the management of public affairs. ,

On the other hand, one Columbia white minister has been . quoted as saying: “I would wish for a shotgun and a tree when nigras started voting and the precise aim to pluck them down one by one as they tried and dared to cast a vote.”!8 Dr. E. C. L. Adams, a retired white medical doctor in Columbia who owns a 2,500 acre plantation several miles outside of

the city and employs some forty Negroes as day laborers or renters, permitted Wilhelmina Jackson to visit his place and to interview some of his workers. Miss Jackson was admitted into the home of Dr. Adams on the plantation, was invited to have

a meal with him, and was permitted to interview his Negro workers without anyone else being present. The first of the Negroes interviewed was Buster Hubbard, a day laborer on the farm—a man of about thirty-five who had been working for “Doc” Adams for the last fifteen years. When asked whether he had ever voted, he replied: “No’m, we doesn’t vote a-tall out here.” Asked whether he had ever desired to vote, he said: “Wal, guess I wouldn’t mind it, ’cordin to what it ’tis.” In response to the query whether he had ever seen a newspaper, he replied: “No’m, never have yet.” And, when asked whether he had ever listened to a radio, he replied: “No’m, has no lights.” Asked for his opinion of President Roosevelt, however, he be-

came voluble and said: “Swell man, Mistuh Roosevelt, he is Negro fren ’cause mos’ people out here is renters and Mr. Roose-

velt ‘low so much a year to rent crops and give us peas and 13. Quoted for Wilhelmina Jackson by Professor G. Croft Williams of

tre o niversity of South Carolina, Columbia, South Carolina, January

428 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY food for cotton and all.” Concerning Senator “Cotton Ed” Smith, he replied: “Don’ like him a little bit. Ifn I recollects correctly,

he said niggers kin live off’n twenty-five cents and fifty cents a day. For that you kin git clothes off’n that, but not food. You and

family would be naked or slight your stomachs, and where ~ there’s children, you gotta feed ’em. No’m, I don’t like Senator

Smith a little bit.” When asked whether he thought the vote _ | would better his status, Hubbard replied: “Folks in Nort’ has | privilege to vote, reason they’s so far ahead of our colored folks } ~ in the country, and ’specially in Sous Caolina.” Nero Brown, an old one-eyed Negro, when asked whether the

_ Negro workers on the farm ever discussed politics, replied: “Yes’m, ’specially we colored folks gist together and talks about , Senator Smith. He’s a mean white man to us colored folks.” When asked whether the Negro workers admired Roosevelt, Brown replied: “Yes’m, and eff’n we cud vote, we wouldn’t vote |

for anybody else but Mistuh Roosevelt, but no one out here ever | tried to vote. We’s mostly scary, that’s it, We’d rather goon and © do the best we can.” When asked whether he had read a newspaper or heard a radio, Brown replied: “No’m, ’cept when I goes to Columbia, and I goes right sharp on Sat’days.” Asked if his

preacher ever talked about politicians, Brown said: “Yes’m, he : thinks Senator Smith’s a fine man. But ef’n I cud vote, I'd just

vote for Mistuh Roosevelt; he’s a fine man.” _ , } The next worker was “Thad” Gibson, an old man of about : seventy-two, who said of Franklin D. Roosevelt: , Roosevelt has done more for colored people than any other

president in this community. He give us our first school—a three-room WPA school. He give us teachers ... for our chil- _

dren. He give us food when we was hungry and our children hot WPA lunches in school. Tain’t no use talkin’ "bout politics.

Our folks down here don’ even know what ’tis and if they cud vote tomorrow, they wouldn’t know how or what they was : votin’ for. They’s that ignorant.

A young day laborer of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight named Milton Washington, when asked about Senator Smith, |

said: “If you tend to your business everything will be all right. , _ I don’ let him cross my mind.” About Roosevelt, he said: “Purty _ good, I reckon. I never wuked on WPA yet and never had any . . dealings with presidents, anyhow.” Concerning a desire for vot- . ing, he commented: “It never has done drove ‘cross my mind

os about votin’, ‘cause I never voted and don’ know nothin’ ’bout

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 429 what it is. I just want what’s comin’ to me Sat’day night so’s I can give my mother some food and go to Columbia.” The next worker, Peter Epps, a man of about forty who was partly a WPA worker and partly a day laborer, stated that: “Ne-

groes shud vote for Mistuh Roosevelt if they kin.” Asked whether Republicans meant anything to him, he said: “Never heard of it.” When asked whether the Negroes on Adams’ farm ever talked politics, he said: “They’s talked more politics since Mistuh Roosevelt been in than ever befo’. I been here twenty years, but since WPA, the Negro sho’ has started talkin’ ‘bout politics.”

The overseer on “Cotton Ed” Smith’s plantation, about four miles outside of Lynchburg, South Carolina, observed: “Nigras don’t vote here ’cept for farm parity payment. Gits right much outta that, too. When you git down to it, white folks don’t know nothin’ "bout votin’ out here, either.” One of the day laborers on this farm—who said that she received $1.00 to $1.50 a week “cordin’ to the weather” and that her working hours are “sunup to sundown”—replied when asked about voting: “Never has. Doesn’t want to. Not so far as I know’s any good come of it.” When asked what she thought of the WPA, she replied: “I never jined that club, yet. Don’t know much a-tall about it.” None of the several day laborers and sharecroppers interviewed by Wilhelmina Jackson on the plantation knew anything about voting, political issues, or even about the WPA, nor did they know anything about Senator Smith except that he did go to Washington quite often, probably because “he’s got plenty of money and time,” though contending that he was on the farm a great deal

of the time too. |

There are no more than five or six Negro Republicans who

vote in Saluda County, though perhaps a few more have at some time registered, especially since the attorney general has made

the ruling that Negro names must be put in the jury box. The names of Negroes are placed in the federal jury box and a former chief commissioner for Saluda County states that he saw one Negro from the county serving: “He sat up thar and _ didn’t hurt nothing at all. He’s a good old nigger—minds his own business. I’d about as soon have him up there as most white

men if I was being charged.” This man went so far as to state that he would not mind seeing some of the Negroes vote, be-

| cause: “We've got some mighty good niggers in this county. They’ve got a limit to the amount of vision and all like that, Pll grant you, but they’re honest and steady as you'll find.”

430 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

A member of the board of registrars of Saluda County says that when Negroes came in to register, he would ask them which district they wanted to vote in and that “every one of them said they didn’t want to vote. They said they wanted to register be-

cause they thought it was a help to the government.” Negroes are also made to show poll tax receipts and registration certificates at the polls. According to the county clerk, “if a nigger votes here, he’s got to show his credentials.” Six Negroes are now registered, but only one of them is under sixty-five and thus eligible for jury duty. He has never been drawn, however, “and never will be.” Expressing his views on the Negro vote, the clerk declared:

I don’t think a nigger’s got any right to vote. They never contributed a damn thing to the community. All they do is live on it. Look at the schools they get out of us. Their taxes wouldn’t pay for them in a hundred years. . . . Hell! I’m glad to see them going North, and a pile of them have gone from this county. I'm getting a stack of letters every day from some of them

in New York and Detroit and all over wanting birth certificates so they can get their working papers. [ll see them in hell before Pll send a damn one of them anything. Continuing, he observed: I wouldn’t lift a little finger for them unless I get my fee for it.... Lie around. Won’t work in the fields any more. . . . Too good for that! All they want is WPA or go to work in the saw-

: mills... . Oh! You'll find one good one in a hundred or two. One or two of them are pretty good farmers... . You could count them on your hand. ... I’m glad they are going North. ...Good riddance. An elderly Negro in Saluda who is a faithful follower of “tie-

| less” Joe Tolbert, and who has been taken to Republican conventions by Tolbert, has done his best to get “something started” among Negro voters. The older Negro voters, he states, kept dying off, and he could not recall there being more than a dozen Negro voters since he was a boy. He is now fifty-nine. By 1936

there were only two Negro voters left in the county—himself and his wife—and so then, he declares: “I got busy and commenced working me up a bunch to go register.” He got ten or twelve who said they were willing and most of them—eight—

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 431 were registered in 1938, when the new registration began, but not that many voted because

they got discouraged... . James Bush, who had worked in the Ford repair shop for a dozen years, got fired. His mother—

an undertaker—was not bothered. Ella McGraw, a school teacher, was warned by the authorities that she had better not “mess with such as that.” Raney Hurley, a Negro landowner out in the county, received a hike in taxes. Two others were the reverend John Davis and the reverend John

Williams—both of Ridge Spring. One of these men was “warned.” One other was a janitor in the bank—one of the bestknown Negroes in the town and a good friend of the mayor's.

He also was fired. “Ihe mayor said he was surprised. He said he’d always liked him, but right there, he ruint hisself when he started foolin’ with votin’. All that got people discouraged.”

The last time this informant carried tickets (ballots) to the polis, he got in trouble. One of the poll holders told him that he was too late and that he should have given those tickets to the chairman of the commission the day before. The Negro objected

that he thought a man could bring in the tickets any time and that a voter had a right to bring his own tickets to the polls individually if he wished. The poll holder “wanted to know who told me that. If I’d ’a said Joe Tolbert told me that, he would have run me out, so I said: ‘You all white folks say so.’ One of them jumps and says he going to get a law book. Humph! He run out that door and he run right back. Didn’t go no place and a’sayin’, yeah, that’s right.” At the last registration, this man got two Negroes registered —the two ministers—who had no property. This is the first time

he had tried this because: “I know’d it might be trouble, so I says, let’s wait to about 1:30. Don’t never approach a white man on an empty stomach if you want him to do you a favor.” They

went in at 1:30 p.m. and got registered. As for the young Negroes in this county, “all they study about is getting out. They don’t want no land. All they want to dois go North.” In Beaufort County few Negroes vote and these only in the general election. They are “mostly old people. The young fellows have got better sense than to start anything like that.” The clerk

of court in Beaufort County states that he has issued general election certificates of registration to Negroes who have applied

on “off” days. He has done this, however, only for “good old

432 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

darkies” whom he knew. He does not see, he says, why “we shouldn’t let some of those darkies vote.” He mentioned several whom he considered “good friends—mighty good friends’— and “I don’t think it would hurt a bit in the world to let afew of — them come on in to our primaries.” Up through April 1940, eighteen Negroes were registered for the general election, and the clerk of court predicts that not more than forty would be registered for the 1940 elections in the county. Negroes have never

voted in the primaries here. According to a prominent Negro leader in Beaufort, all of the “voting Negroes” in the county are Republican, while a few of the “talking” ones are Democrats. According to the wife of H. G. Fisher, an undertaker:

Only the old folks in Beaufort are foolish enough to hope ... and to think how far we went when I was young. We used to be the public officials here . . . now all they will give us is jobs as street cleaners. ... A white man is janitor of the courthouse. They won’t hire a Negro if they can avoid it. No wonder the young people are going North. They want to go where they have more privileges.

This Negro woman recalled the days when she went to school with white children and the daughter of her mother’s master was the teacher. The city manager of Beaufort believes: “We are going to have some more trouble about Negroes voting; we had a sample of it

last time.” He told the story of a Negro Baptist preacher—a Southern Negro educated in the North—who tried to vote in the Democratic primary. He was greeted by a former mayor of Beaufort with the question: “What do you want, nigger?” When the Negro preacher said that he wanted to vote, he was told to “get

out and stay out if you know what’s good for you.” The city manager warns that: “We can expect this from now on.” He felt that there would be no trouble from local Negroes, but that the ones coming down from the North will cause trouble. The local schoolteachers also are “getting ideas. They are telling the

students they ought to take their rights.” The city manager is “against this kind of thing—at least, not for a long time.” There are six or eight Negroes who vote in Pickens County, and all of these vote either in Pickens or in another town box, according to a former general election commissioner, who added: “They better not try voting in some of these country places up around these mills.” He explains that no larger number

of Negroes vote “because they aren’t interested.” He does not

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 433 think, however, that anyone would “bother them” in the town of Pickens, although the old feeling against Negroes and Republicans remains very strong there. This man, who is now a school trustee, referred to the threat of a school strike which occurred last spring. He thought a Negro preacher was back of this. “J don’t know whether he’s an agent of this Association for the Advancement of Colored People or not. I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ve had trouble with him once or twice before. The colored people themselves don’t like him.

He keeps them stirred up all the time.” He reports that most , of the Negroes from Pickens County are leaving for the North: “Any cornfield colored girl who gets a little experience as a

: servant will pick up and leave for Nashville or Washington or Philadelphia [mocking their pronunciation of the city names], where they think theyre going to get higher wages.” He has a _ Negro girl in his house now who went up there and came back, _ and he says she found out it was not so nice. He did not know, however, whether he was going to keep her or not, because “she’s spoiled now.” He concluded: “I’d be satisfied to see them all leave. I’m sick and tired of seeing white men standing back from work because they think it’s a nigger’s job.” The secretary of the Pickens County Democratic committee

estimates that there are ten or twelve Negroes who vote in the county. All except one of these vote with the Republicans, and this one is said to be the courthouse janitor. “He’s what you call a white man’s nigger... . Killed another nigger and got life

for it... . Got a pardon from the governor. ... Been working here ever since. He'll do anything for a white man, but he sees that a nigger keeps in his place. .. . Don’t have much to do with | them. They're afraid of him.” This Negro votes Democratic, and “he says he wouldn't vote Republican for nobody.” The secretary

. asserts: “No sir! No niggers vote in any primaries in this county.” No Negroes vote in the Six Mile, South Carolina, box, and the

president of the Democratic club at Six Mile thinks that not more than two or three Negroes vote in the entire county. The _ attitude of the young president of the Democratic club at this : _ rural community is that there are too many ignorant votes cast now, and if all the Negroes voted it would be much worse. He observes: “Oh, I believe in educating the nigger. I do believe in

- that. It looks like when they get educated, they're more reasonable like. .. . They're just as polite and nice and intelligent as any of us are.” This man stated that he was less certain that the

434 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

local people would “stand for it” than that the Negroes, if they got the vote, would try to “do something wrong. You can’t tell

what you'd get into. ... Funny thing when you come to think about it. Supposed to be a free country and all. The Constitution

says they can vote in a general election, don’t it? .. . I guess there’s an unwritten law.” According to the census, out of a total population of 63,864,

Orangeburg County has 40,640 Negroes. In Orangeburg Negroes have a chance to vote for local officials because there is no primary for the municipal elections. However, rather too typically, the small number of Negroes who do vote in city elections can be bought by promises of small payoffs and favors. It is said that, for the most part, the Negro intellectuals in Orangeburg do not vote. In 1939, for example, only two Negro teachers voted in the trustee election. It is stated that the ease with which Negroes can register in Orangeburg makes the low registration

figure appalling. It is further observed that “with ten possible exceptions, the 125 Negroes registered to vote in Orangeburg’s city elections are the ordinary Negroes.” Not more than a few hundred Negroes vote in the entire state of Mississippi. A few of them are old Negro aristocrats, and a few are young schoolteachers. Negroes are completely barred from the Democratic primary in this state. Mississippi presents perhaps the darkest picture of frustrated Negro political effort. Here exclusion devices and intimidation reach their zenith. About the only ray of political light to which Mississippi Negroes can turn is reflected by Perry Howard, the nation’s sole remaining Negro Republican committeeman, who for years has resided

in Washington, D.C., and not Mississippi, and who has been aptly described as “a better ‘lily-white’ than a white Mississippian could be.”

Senator Harrison of Mississippi has stated that: “Under the laws of Mississippi, the nigra can vote now in the general election if he can meet the qualifications of the constitution.” But as to the possibility of the Negro being permitted to participate fully in the electoral processes in the South, the Senator declares that, though education will help, the old tradition persists about

the period when the Negro controlled the state legislatures: “The nigra is satisfied down there from a political standpoint. In my state, the nigra has played no part in politics for forty 14. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interviews, Orangeburg, South Carolina, 1 February 1940.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 435 years and has no desire to do so. We are all content to leave the

situation alone as it is.” About a dozen years ago in Vicksburg, in a special election

for mayor, Negroes had an opportunity to vote. Dr. W. J. Holsey.

was running against Judge Henry. A Holsey supporter campaigned among the Negroes. The vote was about 1,700 for Holsey and 1,500 for the judge. Later, Dr. Holsey—in a speech of welcome to a Negro convention at the YMCA in Vicksburg— said that the Negro vote was the margin of victory in his election. A lawyer named Ewing acted as intermediary between the Ne-

: groes and the mayor and succeeded in getting several streets paved and a few street lights put up in the Negro sections.*® According to Dr. S. D. Redmond, chairman of the Republican

state central committee in Mississippi and a prominent Negro politician: The Negro’s status in Southern politics is dark as Hell and smells like cheese. There is an unwritten law in the state of Mississippi that not enough Negroes shall be allowed to regis-

ter to jeopardize white supremacy. The poll tax is the most effective instrument, along with the registration procedure, for disfranchising the Negro. The catch in the poll tax law is this—you must have paid the tax before the proper time for two successive years prior to the election in which you offer to

vote. The poll tax assessment is $2 per year. In addition to _ this, you must pay astreet tax of $1 if you are a resident of the town or city. The property qualification for registration and the grandfather clause were removed in 1936... . In spite of the elimination of the grandfather clause and the property qualification for voting, it is nonetheless well nigh impossible

for any mass registration on the part of Negroes in Mississippi. The registrar, who is also the circuit clerk, is the final arbitrator in determining the applicant’s ability to read and write, and interpret clauses from the Constitution. The registrar here in Jackson has been quoted as asking such questions as this: “How old was Christ when he was born?” On one occasion, a Negro applicant went up to register. Said the registrar: “Get the hell out of here, nigger, before I take something and knock you in the head. You niggers are 15. Interview with Senator Byron Patton Harrison, Washington, D.C., 16 February 1940. The interviewer is not identified in the Bunche memorandum. —Ep. 16. James Jackson’s interview with Dr. Owens, a Negro Republican leader, Vicksburg, Mississippi, February 1940.

436 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

looking for trouble. What you want to vote in a white man’s election for? You think you are equal to a white man, don’t you?” I sent out letters to the county clerks in all Mississippi coun-

ties, seeking to determine the number of registered Negroes in the state. None replied to my letters. Subsequently I telephoned several of them and these are some of the replies: From Sharkey County in the Delta: “Don’t allow niggers to register in Sharkey County.” From Madison County: “Sev- — enty-five niggers registered in Madison County.” From Vicksburg: “About 300 colored people registered in Vicksburg.” From Lincoln County: “Only one nigger—Burwell Jackson who died five years ago—has been registered here as far as I know.” From Copiah County: “About twenty-five niggers

registered in Copiah County.” From Humphreys County: “None. You know we don’t allow niggers to register in Humphreys County.” From Forrest County: “Only four of ’em reg-

istered here.” From Newton County: “Five niggers here.” , From Yazoo County: “Only three niggers vote here, thank God.”

Of course, you know that nomination in the Democratic primary is tantamount to election. No candidate dares challenge the primary nominee in a general election. He would be definitely persona non grata. ... Back in 1890 or thereabouts, after they'd accomplished the defeat of the Reconstruction Government, a constitutional convention was called to change the Reconstruction constitution of 1868. At this convention, there was one Negro who will be remembered in future histories of Mississippi as the Judas of his people. This Negro was Isaiah T. Montgomery, from Mound Bayou. Montgomery betrayed his people by voting for

Section 240 of the infamous Constitution of 1890 which wiped out the political liberties of the Negro people and the vast masses of white people. Montgomery was lionized and acclaimed by the Bourbons for this betrayal.1”

Negroes have had no voice in the political life of Louisiana since 1896——the year in which the primary election law was

passed, Throughout the entire state not more than two thousand Negroes are eligible to vote. The registration difficulties have proven great, and the registrars have succeeded in keeping

all but a small number of blacks from the polls even though 17. James Jackson’s interview, Jackson, Mississippi, January 1940.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE INNER SOUTH 437 poll tax payment is no longer required for voting. Most of those who vote are in New Orleans.

Louisiana is the one Southern state which publishes official registration figures with a racial breakdown. The official statement of registered voters in the state as of 21 March 1936, re-

ports the following totals: white males—382,005; white females—256,528; colored males—1,737; colored females—270. The report also states that of these totals, 582,317 whites wrote their name as against 1,931 colored, while 51,492 whites “made their mark” as against 15 Negroes. Negro voters were registered in only sixteen of the sixty-four parishes. The bulk of the Negro

registration is from two parishes only: Orleans (New Orleans ), , with 889 Negro males and 113 Negro females, or a total of : 1,002 registered; and East Baton Rouge, with 590 Negro males and 146 Negro females, or a total of 736 registered. It is doubtful that many more than half of these registered Negroes actually vote, however.

The Negro masses, as well as the white masses, were solidly behind Huey P. Long in Louisiana. It is claimed that he did not discriminate against Negroes in providing free school books, that he put Negro nurses in the hospitals and Negro servants

in the state capitol, and that he refrained from referring to “niggers” in his campaign speeches.!8 18. Interview with Dr. Hardin, a Negro leader, New Orleans, Louisiana, 13 November 1939. The interviewer is not identified in the Bunche memorandum. —ED.

THIRTEEN

The Negto at The Polls: The Outer South

NEGROES can now register and vote without much difficulty in Virginia, especially in the urban centers. There are no accurate

Statistics available, but it is estimated that some twenty thou-

sand Virginia Negroes now exercise the franchise. Perhaps

three-fourths of these are Democratic voters and cast their ballots in the Democratic primaries. The poll tax, with its threeyear cumulative clause, remains as an important restraint upon Negro as upon white voting in Virginia. It is not unusual in this state for political candidates to bid publicly for Negro votes. In Richmond in 1936 there were 30,177 citizens eligible to vote, of whom 1,527 were Negroes. About a thousand Negroes

are in political clubs, centered, for the most part, about the Richmond Democratic League. Since 1920, Richmond Negroes have not been an important issue in determining elections, but the situation is now changing. For example, in the 1936 DudleyBright campaign for mayor, Bright turned the tide in his favor at the last moment by a whispering campaign among the whites

that Dudley was going to put Negroes on the city payroll and discharge one-third of all white policemen, firemen, street cleaners, and so forth, in order to give jobs to “niggers.” The charge was false, however, for Dudley, though supported by Negroes,

had neither the wish nor the need to bid so highly for a mere 1,500 Negro votes. Chesterfield County, Virginia, has a population of about 22,000, of whom 6,000 are Negroes. The largest Negro vote 1. James Jackson’s interview with Roscoe Jackson, president of the Richmond Democratic League, Richmond, Virginia, October 1939.

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440 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

polled in the county in recent years was between three and four

hundred in the August primaries of 1939. There have been some obstacles to Negro registration and voting in this county. H. H. Price, an elderly Negro resident, recalled in an interview with James Jackson:

In 1924, when I moved my residence from Richmond proper, the registrar refused to accept my transfer, but when I threatened court action, he acquiesced. In some districts of the county they require Negroes to answer a lot of illegal questions. Vote qualifications are simple enough if you have paid your poll tax. It is difficult in some districts where Negroes are thickly populated—they ask a lot of illegal questions.

Price, who has long been active in politics, expressed it as his view that the

Negro should center his energies in local politics and local issues. We have fooled around all these years, bickering in national politics and got nothing because we ain’t enough to count in national elections. We must build up from a position of strength in local politics—that is, county and city elec-

tions—and on local county bond issues before we can gain any hearing in national politics. ... The secret of Negro success in the South as a whole lies in effecting an alliance with the whites. Not the whites in any general sense, but those he comes in contact with on the job, at the county postoffice, at the general store; he can talk to them and not be afraid—he does already on every subject in

the world but united political action. In the meantime, if

are. :

Negroes will qualify and vote, and vote unitedly in their own interests, they could hold office right now with things as they There should be 11 Negroes in the Virginia House of Dele-

gates and two seats in the Virginia Senate, reckoning it on the basis of the 1930 census. Negroes are a majority in 22

counties, and in 39 counties are equal in number to the whites.... In the fourth congressional district of Virginia—but for Petersburg and Hopewell—Negroes would be in a majority. John M. Langston was elected to Congress from this district fifty years ago, and the population balance has not altered much since. With only a handful of white voters supporting

your man (if all the Negroes voted), you could send an-

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 441 other to Congress. If the Negro could get a little cooperation

in this district from whites, he could achieve many things. | This Virginia Negro declares that: “In 1936, Negro opposition defeated a bond issue for a $40,000 jail in Chesterfield County. We demanded a school bond. Didn’t many whites vote—those that did voted against it. Poor people don’t vote for jails.”

In Norfolk the “administration” forces are led by the clerk of the corporation court, who has a forceful and gruff personality and who has held office for a number of years. A number of the upper-class Negro business and professional men and women lead the “administration” supporters in the Negro com- :

munity. There is also a strong antiadministration group among , the Negroes of Norfolk who have organized an independent Democratic league in a revolt against the Norfolk machine. Negroes here vote in all elections—local, state, congressional, presidential, and primary. A good many of the upper-class black

citizens of Norfolk feel that the Negro population, in general,

does not evidence much interest in voting. It is said that Negro | preachers do not urge Negroes to vote, though other leaders do. | Some of these leaders are inspired by factional affiliation as pro-

or anti-administration, and others by force of belief that the vote will help. Some white politicians also urge Negroes to vote.’

Some of the upper-class Negro women, when they presented themselves for registration, were asked difficult questions and were refused registration upon their failure to answer them. Their cases were prosecuted by a local Negro attorney, and they were registered.

The population of Portsmouth, Virginia, according to the 1930 census, was 45,704, of which 18,849 were Negroes. But only some 1,300 to 1,400 Negroes vote. Yet even this small num-

ber of Negro voters, if consolidated as a bloc vote, could hold the balance of power in congressional and municipal elections. The Negro vote in Portsmouth is not a bloc vote, however, for two cogent reasons. The first of these is the nature of Negro political

leadership. There is a Negro leader for every fifty black voters,

and each of these leaders is at the other’s throat in the mad | : scramble for the meager monetary rewards that can be won from small-town politics. The other reason is to be found in the 2, Wilhelmina Jackson’s Norfolk memorandum, October 1939. Unless _ otherwise noted, the quotations in this section on Virginia are taken from Miss Jackson’s notes of field interviews conducted in the fall of 1939.

442 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

fact that in Portsmouth there are two important political fac- tions—-the Glass-Byrd-Darden group, backed by the DuPont millions, and the Hamilton-Price group, pro-New Deal and backed in the past by the Planters fortune (the peanut king). Thus the Negro vote never becomes a bloc vote, but is split be- | tween these two factions and is, therefore, no serious threat to Portsmouth.

| Negroes in Portsmouth vote in all elections. Their right to - vote in the Democratic primaries was established by the case

of James C. West of Richmond in 1930. In this case the Negros right to participate in the Democratic primaries in Virginia was Clarified and upheld by the circuit court of appeals of the

fourth judicial district. In the first few years following this favorable decision, however, Portsmouth Negroes did meet with discriminatory practices on the part of registrars and judges of

elections. Two types of restrictions were applied to Negroes’ voting rights. The first was a catch question asked by the judge of elections. Upon going to cast his ballot, the Negro voter would be asked whether he had voted Republican or Democratic in the

last general election. If the answer was Republican, he would be prevented from casting his ballot. A Negro attorney in Ports-

mouth claims that: “They attempted in the primaries of 1931 to keep me from voting because, in the last election, I had voted Republican. However, I took my case to court and was given the privilege to return to the polls and cast my ballot.” The second type of voting restriction was based purely on race. On occasion Negroes were merely prevented from voting in the primaries in

direct contravention of the decision in the West case because they were Negroes.

Difficult questions and inconveniences of other types were employed in efforts to stop Negroes from exercising the right to vote in the Democratic primaries. Three Portsmouth Negroes relate their experiences. Charles Butts, a Negro singer: After paying the required poll tax for the primaries of 1931, it became necessary to apply to the registrar for registration.

I knew beforehand that Mr. Parker, the registrar, was a violent Negro-hater. He had made up his mind to keep as many Negroes out as possible. He gave me a plain slip of paper on which I, myself, had to make out a form and fill it out. Then I had to give it back to him and if it pleased him, he’d register you, and if it didn’t, he’d keep it, refuse to register you and never tell the reason why. Three times I went to be registered

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 443 and three times I was refused. The first time, my form was all

right, but he asked me how many signed the Declaration of Independence and who was president of the Senate (at the Oo time of my registration ). These were civil government questions which one doesn’t know unless one is in school constantly. I didn’t know, and I wasn’t registered. The second time I went to the polls, the registrar told me the “sun was down” and so I wasn’t registered. The third time, I hadn't signed my name enough times on the blank form he gave me and I wasn’t registered. I knew the machine was run at that

: time by Dr. Brooks, who was anti-Negro, and so I figured it would be best for me to take a politician along with me the last time I went. I took our ward leader, a man who was “in the know.” I was registered this time. I almost got out of the

notion of voting, though. } Mrs. Samuel E, Johns:

Parker was registrar at that time, 1931. He hated Negroes, I knew, but my husband convinced me that I should get qualified to vote, so I went to get registered. He gave me a blank form to fill out and in court, but not at the polls, said I had

failed to sign my name at a required place. He also, at the registration counter, asked me how many signed the Declaration of Independence, and my answer was wrong. He didn’t register me. In court my lawyer, Mr. Melvin, asked the judge if he could ask Mr. Parker a question. The judge told him yes, whereupon Mr. Melvin asked the registrar how many signed

| the Declaration of Independence. Parker couldn’t answer. ! The judge gave me the privilege of going back to register without further difficulty. Miss Quintella Brown, a schoolteacher: I failed to put Norfolk County behind Portsmouth, Virginia,

on the blank form when giving the facts of my birth. I was refused on those grounds. I took the case to court and won, however. Even now I have trouble directly at the polls, for they attempt to put my ballot in the box for me. I will not let them do this, however.

In at least two of the wards in Portsmouth—Harrison and Jefferson—the Negro vote controls the councilmanic elections.

Half a century ago there were Negro councilmen, commonwealth attorneys, municipal judges, and tax collectors in Ports-

444 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Jennings. | , mouth. Today, however, the only city office of any consequence held by Negroes is that of probation officer, held by Mrs. W. V.

In 1935 Portsmouth applied for a change in its city charter

so that elective councilmen would be chosen by wards instead

of at large. The whites opposed to the change immediately raised the cry that the change would make it possible for Negroes to sit as administrators of the city. Two Negroes did run for the city council. One of them, a Dr. Johnson, recalls:

I ran for city council in the municipal election of 1936.

This was the first time in forty-five years that a Negro © had done such a thing. It stirred up the city, so that not only the Negro papers but the white papers as well wrote about it.. The petty town politicians got warm about it. They thought I should have “consulted” them about my candidacy.

| One of these offered me $100, which a white man had given him, to sell out, but being a man of principle, I naturally refused it. In my campaign, I made it a point to ask for those things which Negroes needed, such as free textbooks, better

streets, roads, and so forth. I also made it a point to go. around to the various civic leagues in the wards in a bid for their support. But they had been forewarned or bought, and attitudes of coldness and hostility met me. Some of the papers ran letters and articles in which some of the Portsmouth people characterized me as a political “goat.” These were answered by me in firm tones in the Norfolk Journal and Guide. I said that the general criticism which was levied against me as being premature in my efforts was ill-founded; that the Negro, even if he polled only one vote, had to make the step forward in those sections where conditions were favorable,

: and the Harrison ward, due to the predominance of Negroes, was certainly such a section. I ran to prove the point that _Negroes weren’t asleep politically. I lost, but hope the point was proved. Dr. C. C. Somerville, a Negro preacher, was the other black candidate in 1936: In 1936, in looking over this town’s history, I found that for forty years no Negro had taken a position in the government

of the city of Portsmouth. No policemen, no patrolmen, nor constables were Negroes. When I found this out and saw that I was eligible for councilman, I applied from the Jefferson

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 445 ward; my application was accepted, and I was listed among the candidates. I was the only Negro that applied from the Jefferson ward. The white papers made a note of the fact that I was a candidate. I did not attempt to campaign. I simply contacted my friends and relatives. None of the Negro or-

ganizations in town supported me. When the votes were counted, Dr. Johnson and I both had the same number— eight apiece. This appeared to me as a very strange thing, so I’m going to run again in 1940. This time, ’m going to make a bid for the support of Negro organizations in Portsmouth. The stories related by Johnson and Somerville do not give the

complete picture, however. Dr. Johnson does not have a large

practice in Portsmouth, and Dr. Somerville was the stormy petrel in a factional dispute which split the congregation of the

second largest Baptist church in the city. Many Portsmouth

citizens feel that their candidacies were clouded. Political leaders such as Thomas Reid and Norman Hamilton charged that these two Negroes were paid to enter this race; that the machine

politicians gave them fifty dollars each in order to build up a case against the return to the ward system. Newport News has a population of 34,417, of whom 13,281 | are Negroes. Of the total population, 21,872 are of voting age and 8,250 of this number are Negroes. It appears that the voting

percentage in Newport News is not very high. Newport News Negroes vote in all elections and on all issues. The Negro community of Newport News has apparently evidenced a great deal of interest in voting, especially when issues concerning their welfare are at stake. The usual charge is made that Negro ministers, as a whole, do not urge their congregations to vote, while other Negro leaders do so. White candidates for office openly urge Negroes to vote and frequently speak at Negro meetings. White groups, such as the Young Democratic Club, deputize Negroes to get out the vote for their candidates at election time. The Negro voters of Newport News give their main support to the Democratic party. There is quite extensive political organization among them. According to the 1930 census, as corrected to include a sub- | sequent annexation of 1 January 1932, the total population of Petersburg was 30,074, of whom 12,802 were Negroes. In this population, 3,013 whites and 395 Negroes were qualified to vote as of October 1939. In 1932 there were only 72 Negroes qualified to vote in Petersburg. The increase in qualified Negro

446 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

voters has been due to the activities of the League of Negro Voters, whose primary objective has been to stimulate interest in voting among Negroes and to urge them to pay the poll tax. There has been no opposition to the Negro vote from whites, and several white candidates for office have encouraged the activity of the League in stimulating Negro political participation.* Some of the states commonly classed as “border” states, such

: as Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee, have scarcely followed in the border state tradition insofar as liberality toward Negro enfranchisement is concerned—at least not until very

recent years. In these states the Negro has generally had to overcome many obstacles before any significant number of black voters could enter the polling booths. Negro voting is tend-

ing to increase fairly rapidly in all three of these states now, since the restrictions on the Negro franchise have been softened by court action and the pressure of Negro organization. In the urban areas of North Carolina there is no vigorous opposition to Negro voting, generally speaking. In the rural areas, however, the Negro does encounter difficulty, though it is taken for granted that in such areas he would be discreet enough not to try to vote. There have been no recent instances of violence at

the polls because of Negro efforts to vote. In some places the Negro vote is openly solicited, while in others there is definite opposition to it. The total Negro vote in this state is probably somewhere between forty and fifty thousand, and there is a strong Democratic support among black voters. Perhaps as much as three-fourths of the Negro vote in recent years has gone Democratic. In many counties Negroes vote freely in the Democratic primaries. A law to eliminate “haulers and markers” from

the primaries, which was enacted in 1935, significantly decreased the vote in the predominantly Negro precincts of Raleigh, although the vote in the general election that followed was large. Negro political leaders in Durham pride themselves on the fact that in 1938 the Negro vote under their leadership defeated

the airport bond issue. It is said, in fact, that the responsible white community holds it against the city’s Negroes for what it considers the blacks’ major responsibility for having defeated the proposition. Negroes felt that, with schools, streets, and other municipal services very inadequate, such services should 3. James Jackson’s interview with Dr. L. P. Jackson, president of the League of Negro Voters, Petersburg, Virginia, October 1939.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 447 come first. They also assumed that Negroes would not be permitted to use the airport. Many poor whites and other white groups also opposed the bond issue because it would raise the tax rate. The Durham Committee on Negro Affairs took an active part in the campaign to defeat the proposed airport. The Negro churches were canvassed. An editorial in the Negroowned Carolina Times was reprinted, and Negro captains were put to work to obtain a heavy black registration. These captains were paid. Promises were made to Negroes that they would be able to ride in the planes. Threats to oppose school bond issues when they arose were issued, and there were instances of intimi-

dation of Negro workers; but an approximate registration of 2,400 Negroes was secured, and it is commonly accepted in Durham that it was Negro opposition that finally accounted for the defeat of the airport bond issue.* The Negroes of Durham vote in all elections. In some instances, as in the case of the fight over the airport, Negroes have

shown an intense interest in voting. Labor organizers, liberal white candidates who merely need the vote, and some of the liberal and interracially minded whites urge Negroes in Durham to vote. Buck Waller is an old-time Negro political leader in Durham who is still able to “deliver the vote” to the white candidates who are willing to bid for it. According to Waller, when he first came to Durham back in 1911: “Only a few Negroes were voting, but

they were not interested in the other fellow voting. I was, so I began working to build up a bloc of voters to give the best candidate.” Waller has built up a large following which he estimates

to embrace “at least 300 to 400 people.” He has not organized these supporters into a political club, but only corrals them near election time with the aid of “some ten or eleven youngsters I’m trying to get interested in politics.” Waller insists that, unlike “the big niggers, I love money, but don’t bow to it. I still am recognized ‘downtown’ as the power and the real father of Neero voting in Durham.” The county Democratic executive committee in Durham has about thirty members, and for the last four years has had one Negro member. Since 1932 Negroes in North Carolina have 4. Wilhelmina Jackson’s interview with Renchell Harris, Durham, North Carolina, 13 November, 1939. Except where otherwise indicated, the quoted material dealing with North Carolina in this chapter is taken from the notes of interviews conducted by Miss Jackson in late 1939 and early 1940. —Epb.

448 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

been attending the state Democratic conventions as official delegates. The Negroes of North Carolina held a Negro Democratic rally during the 1936 presidential campaign. Negroes in Charlotte vote in all elections and participate actively in the Democratic primaries, though we have no figures

on the actual number of Negroes registered and voting in the city. There are the usual number of Negro professional politicians eager to commercialize upon the black vote, and many Negroes take the attitude that “votin’ don’t git you nowhere, and just a few people put money in their pockets.” Only one Negro minister actively encourages Negro political participation and

he admits that, due to his church affiliation, there are limitations upon his activity. The Negro voters of Charlotte chiefly support the Democratic party. In national elections—since the advent of Roosevelt—the swing has been away from the Republican to the Democratic party. In Winston-Salem two powerful corporations—one engaged in tobacco and the other in hosiery—exert strong influence on the political life of the city. It was not possible to obtain an official statement of the number of Negroes registered for voting in Winston-Salem, but several of the leading Negro citizens have

estimated that from 750 to 800 Negroes are qualified voters there. The general impression is that the Negro population is not very interested in voting, although those who do vote are able to do so without opposition and in all elections. There is | only one minister in the city—and he is a recent addition—who actively urges the Negro population to engage in politics. The general impression is that the corporations which employ most

of the Negroes are opposed to their registration on any large scale. As a result, the local registrars sometimes employ devices in order to avoid registering Negroes. Bill Phol, county Democratic committee secretary, is recog-

nized in the community as the man “in charge” of the Negro vote. He is said to have received an important promotion just recently when the Negro vote, which he controlled, was the deciding factor in the Winston-Salem mayoralty election. In the complete reregistration held in the spring of 1940 Phol was again active in getting Negroes to register, and to register Democratic. Since this registration, Phol has formed an organization of Negro voters, and included among its membership are the

leading Negro business and professional men of WinstonSalem. In the country outside of Winston-Salem, few Negroes

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 449 vote. There is said to be a considerable amount of feeling among the whites against it.° Those Negroes who are registered in Greensboro vote in all elections, including the primaries. The returns indicate a slight

interest in the elections on the part of Negroes, and this tends to be confirmed in the opinions of Negro leaders. It appears that Negro ministers are somewhat more active than usual in urging

Negroes to vote and in getting out the vote. White candidates and politicians in Greensboro frankly urge Negroes to vote, and

the candidates make open bids for their ballots, often coming to the meetings of Negro organizations to make their appeals. Most of the Negroes who vote support the Democratic tickets, though it is said that there are about ten Negroes in the city who vote Republican because “deep down in their hearts Negroes are still Republican.” Negro workers in the Cone Mills indicated that there may be some form of mill pressure employed with respect to the control of their vote. One of them said: “At voting time, party come out here and git us... . You understand, one who you works for wants you to vote like they want.”

High Point has a very significant Republican voting population, and the struggle between Democrats and Republicans is keen. It is a highly industrialized town with not very much labor organization. Of the approximately 10,000 qualified voters in High Point, 650 to 750 are Negroes. Negroes are able to vote in all elections, but they have not given evidence of great interest in voting. In large measure, the Negro voters have maintained allegiance to the Republican party, and the GOP organization

has been diligent in its efforts to get Negroes registered. The last campaign for the municipal election on 3 May 1939 was re-

garded by Republicans as certain to return them to control of city politics. The Democrats, who were the “ins,” ordered a new

registration and instructed all of their registrars to be mindful of the legal provision that registrants “must read and write to satisfaction of registrars” and to govern themselves accordingly. It seems that Negro voters were turned down wholesale when they came to register. Interviews with eight of those who sought to register give some idea of what happened. An elementary schoolteacher at the Leonard School who is a 19 >. George Stoney’s observations, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, July

450 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

graduate of the University of Toledo related that when he attempted to “sign up”: “The registrar asked me to read a section of the Constitution, which I did, and then asked me to define terms, which I knew was not part of the North Carolina law. I said to him, ‘that is not a part of the law, to define terms.’ He said, “You must satisfy me, and don’t argue with me.’” He was

not registered. A Negro grocery clerk stated: “The registrar asked me if I owned any property and if I paid taxes. I told him,

no, that I rented, but that I owned what furniture I had in my house and I didn’t pay no property tax. He said then that I wasn't legal to vote. I said, “Well, you know I don’t have to,’ and

then I walked out.” Willie Martin, an embalmer at the Haizlip Funeral Home, related: “The registrar asked me to read what he called the Constitution, but I knew it was part of an amendment to the High Point city charter and told him so. After some dilly-dallying, he let me vote.” Arthur Reid, a Negro contractor and plumber who was rejected, states: “The man wanted me to ‘mit to memory the Constitution, and I couldn’t do it. All them Democrats *bout near hate us Negroes. I ain’t interest in politics no more.” Luther Kern, a Negro porter at the High Point Enterprise office, testifies as follows: I was in the habit, you know, of taking my wife’s place at registering her and registration. ’'d done it for years. After I’d

finished registering last spring, I said to the man, “Can I register my wife?” He said, “No, bring her down to register herself.” I brought her down, and she missed two words— “contingency” and “constitutionality”; the man snatched it out of her hand and said “I can’t register you. You don’t satisfy me.” That made my blood boil, so I said, “You'll hear more

from this.” I went to my boss and told him. He got on the phone, and I went down to the board of elections office where he sent me. The man said, “Boy, what do you want?” I said, “Do I look like a boy to you?” He said, “What are you looking for?” I said, “Mr. Schoch. My boss told me to look for him and the registrar of my precinct.” He said, “I’m Mr. Schoch. The

registrar will be down to your home at 5:30.” When I went home, blood still in my eyes, the man was there registering my wife. I may be a Negro, but the blood in my veins is red. A Mrs. Saunders, an intelligent and well-educated Negro housewife, recalls: “The registrar gave me an article out of the Con-

stitution to read. It was supplemented with words I couldn't pronounce, so he wouldn't register me. He grabbed the paper

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 4951 out of my hand and said, “You just don’t know and can't pass me,

that’s all.” It is notorious in High Point that the registrar in precinct 41 is a habitual drunkard. There are some three hundred Negro voters in Reidsville, North Carolina, in a total population of 11,067. There has been a significant increase in the Negro vote here during the past three or four years. Just a few years ago there were only fifty Negro voters in Reidsville. The incident that provoked the increase in Negro registration was a bond election held by the city a few years ago in which Negroes desired to have included their

demands for improved street surfaces in the Negro quarter. The city council ignored the Negro demands, and consequently

the Negroes—led by the Negro Civic Club—got about 230 blacks registered and directed them to stay away from the polls the day the election was held. They did so, and the bond issue was defeated. In Statesville, a small flour-mill town with a total population of some 11,000, the Negro vote has jumped from 18 before 1935 to between 250 and 300 now. The Negro vote in Statesville was given this impetus because of the Allison case. T. E. Allison, Jr., a Livingston College graduate and a resident of Statesville, applied for registration to vote in a county election in May 1934 and was refused. An aggressive young fellow who had previously attempted to organize an NAACP chapter in Statesville, he decided to fight the case.

Two recent events have directed unusual attention to the

Negro’s political status in Florida. One, the repeal of the poll tax qualification for voting in 1937, has served to reawaken Negro

interest in voting and has led to a gradually increasing Negro political activity. The other, the defiance with which Negroes of Miami met the attempts of the Ku Klux Klan to frighten them from the polls in 1939, has fired Negroes in other Florida com-

munities with new courage and has resulted in a number of vigorous Negro “get-out-and-vote” campaigns. Possibly ten thousand Negroes are able to go to the polls in Florida.

Prior to 1939, Negroes in Miami scarcely participated politically at all. The essential obstacles to their participation were

(1) their ignorance of the nonpartisan nature of city elections and (2) the apathy attendant upon years of nonvoting. It seems that for years Otis Mundy, a prominent Miami Negro, had been aware that Negroes could vote in city elections, but despite his insistent agitation among Negroes toward this end, he could not enlist the support of the then most powerful Negro organization,

4952 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

the Negro Civic Club. Only fifty Negroes were registered voters.

In 1936 Samuel B. Solomon came to Miami and gave enthusiastic support to Mundy’s efforts. Cognizant of the nonpartisan nature of the Miami city government and of the terrible conditions under which Miami Negroes have had to live, these two leaders felt that by the exercise of the ballot Negroes could improve their conditions, if only to a small extent. They decided, as their initial strategy, upon enlistment of the support of the Negro ministers. This they succeeded in doing, and from then on the fight to stimulate interest within the Negro community was much easier.® The upsurge of the Negro voters of Miami at the polls in 1939

was made in the face of odds greater than the mere threats of the Ku Klux Klan. The effort to get out the Negro vote had to

overcome an apathy born of years of disfranchisement and disinterest in things political, bad housing, poor schools, social disease, and widespread crime. It had to combat a timidity and an inferiority complex born of the fact that the Negroes were tucked away in “colored town” on the other side of the Seaboard Line railroad tracks. It is not at all certain, moreover, that this valiant effort by Negroes will bring permanent gains. In the first place, the Negroes who were stimulated to register last year must reregister this year, since Florida does not have permanent registration. In the second place, there is a good deal of group and individual factionalism at work in the Negro community. Negro leadership, itself, is split between ordinary personal opportunism and the welfare of the group. Negro voters of Miami are chiefly Republican because they feel that their votes will be thrown out if they register as independents, and the white Democratic party excludes them. Negroes in Jacksonville consider the school bond election of 1938 to have been the political issue of most recent political significance to their race. Negroes claim that this bond issue was defeated by the black vote, which was overwhelmingly opposed to the issuance of new school bonds. Negro politicians worked strenuously for the defeat of the bond issue. The whites apparently worked equally as strenuously to nullify the attempts of Negroes to defeat the bond proposal. The Negroes’ Civic Improvement League of Jacksonville dis6. The discussion of Negro political activities in Florida is based on Wilhemina Jackson’s notes of field interviews conducted in 1940. —ED.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 453

tributed a leaflet urging Negro voters to stay away from the polls at the time of the school bond issue election in 1938.

| These bonds will be used to build a better Court House, a bigger Armory, an Auditorium, a Yacht Basin, and other things for the use of the white people, but we will have to pay our share of the taxes for these expenditures. Have we had our share of improvements paid for by taxes for sewers and streets in our sections?

What benefit will we colored people get from a bigger Armory or a Yacht Basin? Do you think that the City will let us use the proposed new Auditorium?

A colored organization has recently been refused permission to use Durkee Field or the Stadium. Therefore, we have had to move to Atlanta to hold our planned celebration. The proposed bond elections will not give us our share of the proposed improvements, but we will sure have to bear our share of the increased taxes. Another leaflet distributed among Negro voters read as follows: IF YOU VOTE “NO” AGAINST THE BONDS YOU WILL BE COUNTED IN THE 51 PER-CENT SOUGHT TO CARRY

THE ELECTION, So DON’T Vote At all.

Negroes who vote in Jacksonville chiefly support the Republican party, although the figures give evidence of a large group of independent votes. There is little political organization among Jacksonville Negroes. The Republican party has committees in all eighteen of the precincts and, in certain of the precincts, Neeroes hold party office and exert considerable influence, especially in precinct six. Factionalism is rife among Negro political leaders in Jacksonville. The Negro Republicans are split wide open. There are “old-liners” and the more progressive younger

Negro leaders, but neither group can claim complete control over black voters. Thus split, the fight between the leaders becomes so personal that it defeats the possibility of an intelligent alignment of the Republican Negro voters with any enlightened group in the community. Politics is largely a personal and partisan thing, and issues take second place. The general attitude is

summed up in: “We hate the Democrats. They don’t want

454 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

us. ... We got to fight for our rights within the Republican party.” The white primary is the really serious obstacle to full Negro

participation in politics in Tampa as elsewhere in Florida. The

following experience, which threatened to take the form of court action, is related by B. Z. Williams:

I went down to register, and when the registrar went to put “R” beside my name, I made objection to it. Then she said

I couldn’t register as a Democrat. She left my name blank. I waited until the books were turned over to the county clerk and then made protest. They drew a line through my name. The district attorney, whom I called up, told me that I should sue for an injunction against the registrar. I did not, because of funds. I’m just waiting for the organization [the Voters’ League] to get sufficient funds, and the case will begin. In September 1939 an intensive effort was made by the Negro Voters’ League in Tampa to get Negroes registered, and this re-

sulted in the casting of 1,330 Negro votes. The activity of the Voters’ League was intensive enough to stir up considerable discussion and comment. In September the Tampa Tribune reported: “Ihe white municipal party, charging that ‘corrupt politicians’ are urging Negroes to register in large numbers, had its campaign committee call on white persons in Tampa yesterday to support the party on November 7th.” In the same month the Tribune informed its readers:

The campaign committee of the white municipal party passed a resolution saying that scheming politicos had domi-

nated politics in Tampa before, due to the Negro vote and before the white party was formed. The resolution said that in the old days, politicians herded thousands of Negroes together, served them liqueurs and cigars, and marched them to the polls and voted them for candidates as suited the crooked machine. To end these conditions, the white party was formed, enabling white persons to nominate officials at a primary in which Negroes could not participate. Then, in the last ten days, 310 Negroes have registered as against 34 whites.

Despite the fact that Tennessee is a great deal more liberal than most Southern states toward extending the franchise to Negroes, especially in such cities as Memphis and Chattanooga, it may be taken for granted that the Negro voting average in the

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 455 state is considerably below that of whites. Somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand Negro votes are cast in the state. A recent analysis of voting in Tennessee has suggested that “with rather few exceptions those Tennessee counties with an above-average percentage of Negroes have a below-average per-

centage of voters. To a smaller degree, counties with a belowaverage percentage of Negroes generally have an above-average

voting percentage.” Memphis is the most significant spot in Tennessee for Negro voting. Indeed, Memphis is the great voting oasis for Negroes in

the entire South. But Memphis is typical of neither Tennessee nor the South. Next to Memphis, the Negro in Chattanooga has been most active politically. There also, though on a smaller and less spectacular scale, the Negro vote has fallen under machine domination. Although the Negro votes in Chattanooga in significant numbers, he is considered no threat to white supremacy. George Fort

Milton, editor of the late Chattanooga News, said in an interview on 30 January 1940: “The Negro’s no ‘menace’ here or threatened ‘menace’ from the administration point of view. They will follow the machine and their bought political leaders till hell freezes over, I think. Sometimes I wonder if they aren't more a menace to themselves. ...I don’t know. ... A small group of them are breaking away.” It is rather difficult to discover just what the Negro of Chattanooga gets for his vote other than the immediate dollar or the drink from the ward heeler. The Negro’s “place” in Chattanooga is probably considerably larger in the life of the city than it is in most Southern cities. Nevertheless, the Negro is either kept or stays within his “place.” This “place” seems to expand only when the whites stake out new boundaries, as in trade unionism and politics, rather than from Negro pressure. The commissioner of

fire and police, in discussing the extent of the Negro vote, declares:

Darkies? We got a world of them. I guess 38 percent of our city’s population is black, and out of that about 1,500 or

2,000 vote. Sometimes as many as 2,500 vote. The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and the fourth precinct of the 12th are all black or almost. There’s a peppering in the rest. The poll tax has a tendency to keep most of them 7. Paul K. Walp, “Factors Influencing Voting in Tennessee,” The University of Tennessee News Letter, 18 (December 1939): 2.

456 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

from voting. There’s no attempt to keep them from voting the way there is in most Southern cities, except in the Democratic primary. In the city elections, by gracious, they go out after the nigra vote. I believe if they were left to themselves, they

wouldn’t vote at all, or damn few of them would, but I wouldn't know.®

As to the independence of the Negro vote, a political reporter for the Chattanooga Times told Stoney:

I'd say the average colored voter doesn’t vote just to be exercising his democratic privilege, but because there is something in it for him that same day. A big percentage of the whites do it, too, but the number is a good bit smaller than the colored. ’d say we have about 20 percent independent vote here in Chattanooga, and that’s a bigger percent than you'll find in most cities in the country, certainly in the South.

Speaking of the Negro vote in Chattanooga, the reporter

observes:

The nigras do vote as a whole—anyone, any way you pay them. It’s known. Everybody knows it. The Negro leaders themselves will tell you. There’s about three bosses, and every damn one of them has a white boss on his neck. Walter Robinson, he used to have a hell of a death grip on them, but they’ve

kind of broken away from him a little now. Until four years ago he was truant officer under the Commissioner of Schools.

With his ability to influence the placing of teachers and janitors, he built a black machine all over the city. They finally got him out of that by voting his boss out of office. Walter was a big issue in that campaign. Now he bosses

the fourth ward and puts out his paper. Sid Byers has a job at city hall as sanitation inspector, or something. He votes first for the Republicans and then for the Democrats, according to who pays him. Of course, in the city election [nonpartisan] he always votes with the mayor. Nominally, he’s a Republican. When he was elected to the Republican executive committee one time recently, they refused to seat him, because they said he was a Democrat. The next elec8. George Stoney’s interview, Chattanooga, Tennessee, 26 January

1940. The material on the Negro in Chattanooga politics in this section is based largely on Stoney’s notes of interviews conducted in early 1940. ——£UD,

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 457 tion he carried his ward for the Democrats. He can deliver his precinct for the mayor—something like 300 to 80.

The political reporter for the Times explains how Walter Robinson controls the Negro vote:

He works what they call a “system.” Walter rents a house right across from the poll where you drop in to get your regis-

tration slip and your poll tax list, and a drink, maybe, and find out what Walter’s doing. The first thing in the morning, Walter gets somebody to go in and vote, but just make out like he’s dropping his ballot in the box. He brings that bona fide ballot over to Walter to be marked. Then the next fellow that goes into vote carries this marked ballot in his pocket. He gets another genuine ballot, goes into the booth, makes out like he’s writing, slips the blank ballot in his pocket, puts the one Walter marked in the box and brings the blank one back over to the house for Walter to give to the next fellow. If he

don’t bring it back, he don’t get nothing for his vote... . That’s democracy.

In the 1938 Democratic primary in Chattanooga some Negro wards were opened up which had never been permitted partici-

pation in a Democratic primary before. They supported the Democratic machine. In the Tennessee Valley Authority election of 1935 the private power interests hired Walter Robinson

to corral the Negro vote for them, but on the day of election Negro voters turned against Robinson. When he upbraided them about double-crossing him, he was told: “We want that TVA.” That is the one occasion on which Negroes in Chattanooga voted on issues. Another big influence over the Negro vote in Chattanooga is exercised by “Big Bill” Grossman, Grossman is described as a “big racketeer. Runs gambling joints and night clubs over here in the nigra section. He don’t hesitate to come out in the papers

and say so, too. When some preacher said he had so and so many saloons, Bill told the papers it wasn’t so. He had more, and he gave the right number.” It is said that “Big Bill” plays the role of the benevolent despot in the third ward, a predominantly

Negro ward. Apparently Grossman—a Jew and very rich— scorns any social contact with white people. All of his social rela-

tions, it is said, are with Negroes, and, though this is common knowledge in the community, Grossman is never attacked by the white powers, probably because of his political control over

458 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

the vote in the strategic third ward. In addition to the racketeers who deliver a sizable vote to the candidates of the Chattanooga machine in return for the promise of protection from police interference with their “businesses,” the city machine also has the energetic support of several outstanding Negro political bosses or ward heelers who control the majority of the Negro vote and deliver it for a financial consideration plus personal patronage.°

In Chattanooga Negroes ordinarily support the Republican party nationally and one or other of the Democratic factions locally. White candidates, though seeking the Negro vote, never make an open play for black voters. They work through bosses and on occasion speak at Negro election gatherings, but they try to avoid publicity on that dangerous issue. In answer to the question, “What do Negroes get for the vote?”

one informant states: “They have a big new Negro swimming pool here, a playground that’s fixed up as well as one for white children. .. . That is about all I can think of. Walter Robinson gets most out of it, I suspect. If they get any more, there isn't any outward manifestation of it.” The commissioner of fire and police states that there is “a pretty good reason” for not having a Negro on the police force: He’d have to work exclusively in the colored section, and you know, yourself, one nigger won’t respect another like he would a white man. Then, if a nigra and a white man got in a fight, he’d have to treat them both alike and hed be at a disadvantage there. .. . I don’t think they have them in any city in the South. Labor union leaders in Chattanooga are attempting to teach Negroes to vote “with labor.” The union rules theoretically require members to qualify themselves and exercise their rights as citizens. The business agent for the Hod Carriers and Common Laborers’ Union in Chattanooga points out that probably few of his members, either black or white, pay the poll tax and vote, because: “Two dollars is so much food and clothes and rent.” He expressed the suspicion that the few of the union members

who did vote had their poll tax paid by one or another of the ward heelers, even if they did not vote with him. Because only “known” Democrats can vote in the Hamilton

County primary, few Negroes are “allowed” to vote. In the heavily populated Negro wards, the registration books are “just 9. James Jackson’s Chattanooga field notes, November 1939.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 459 not open” for this election. The 1938 county primary was the first in which Negroes generally were allowed to vote in the Hamilton County Democratic primary. Roy Reynolds, president of the Pressmen’s Union local of Chattanooga and active in local

politics, claims that he and his group were largely responsible for persuading the county Democratic committee to allow Neeroes to vote in the 1938 primary. The opposition group agreed to it and then beat Reynolds’ faction out at the polls. As Reynolds put it: We got the intelligent Negro vote, but the machine boys bought out the rest and beat us with the very group we got the vote for. I’m afraid the Negroes in Chattanooga still belong to the white bosses. They are content to follow his leadership or to follow their own bosses who are the hirelings of the white leaders. Referring to the candidate his group was backing for sheriff in the primary—a Captain Fred Payne, an ex-sheriff, described as “the best of a bad lot” and “a reactionary on the race ques-

tion”—Reynolds related: |

I got him [Payne] in the room the other day with about ten young Negroes. They backed up Fred and asked him if they supported him, would he give them two uniformed Neero deputies. Fred, he squirmed and he squirmed, and finally he said he’d see what he could do. He would see if he could get permission. Fred is honest. You have to give him credit for that. He’s a machine-backed man, all right, and he’s conservative as hell, but he’s not a member of the rackets or the vice ring the way the present sheriff is. That’s about the best you can say. Fred went up to city hall and talked with the boys

up there. They said they couldn’t back him if he did that. If he gave them [the Negroes] this, then the Negroes would put the heat on them in the city. So, he came back and told them he couldn't do it. I expect they will support him, though. They haven’t much choice. At least he believes in treating them like human beings. That guy in there now don’t.

Negroes in Chattanooga used to be elected to public office twenty-five or thirty years ago. That is, before the city commission form of government was put through. Since then, however, none has held office, mainly because the councilmen are elected by the voters of the city at large. Occasionally a Negro does run for office and receives a scattering of votes. The Negro vote was

460 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

steadily Republican in both state and national elections until 1933. In Chattanooga the white candidates negotiate for the Negro vote through the Negro intermediaries. As one political

figure puts it: “The general picture is this: pay the Negro preacher twenty-five dollars—not a bribe, understand, something to help fix up his church—they always put it down in a little book. .. . See Walter Robinson, Sid Byers, and Doc Harper, and you have the Negro vote.”

The labor leader previously quoted says that he and his faction of “progressives” have worked consistently since 1932 to get the Negro vote, but that he feels quite despondent about Negroes ever “being any good” to the liberal cause. The local Negroes refused to work for constitutional change, and Walter

Robinson used his newspaper to campaign against it on the grounds that “they might put over something worse on us.” A brighter picture was presented in the power election of 1935, however. President Roosevelt, it is said, has had considerable influence on the number of Negroes “who call themselves Democrats.”

Nevertheless, it would seem difficult to deny the validity of the indictment contained in the following statement by a local Republican: What we need more than anything else here is some honest negra leadership. For the most part they are in the hands of whatever white man can pay them the most. Walter Robinson is the most outstanding leader, .. . but he’s bought up body and soul. He’s editor of a negra paper here and boss of

the fourth ward... . His wards vote heavy—around six to seven hundred. It ought to vote two thousand by the population they’ve got there. He can’t vote any more than he can get money to pay poll taxes for.... Buckner, a colored barber here, is an avowed Democrat. He’s run for Democratic precinct chairman several times and tried to vote in the primary lots of times, and I guess he’s got a little following. Robinson calls himself a Republican, but I

know he votes several times as many for the Democratic ticket than Buckner does. Knoxville is located in Knox County in eastern Tennessee. In political matters, eastern Tennessee has had little identity with

the rest of the state. Until about 1910, Knoxville had Negro magistrates, and as far back as Grover Cleveland’s administration some Negroes were voting the Democratic ticket, though

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 461 most black voters were traditionally Republican. In recent years, however, since the New Deal and the TVA, more Negroes have

been shifting their loyalty to the Democratic party. It is now estimated that about 60 percent of the Negroes of Knoxville vote the Democratic ticket in all elections. One informant feels that Negroes in Knoxville have lost political influence,

not so much from outside pressure, but through internal organizational disintegration brought on by the machinations

of corrupted, self-seeking traitorous Negroes who have wormed their way into the leadership, splitting the solidarity of the Negro vote and betraying the confidence of the Negro voters for their own selfish promotional interests.’° There are no restrictions on Negro voting in Knoxville except the poll tax, and little effort is put forth to enforce the collection

of that. In addition to six Negro policemen, there are several Negro deputies. The vote in Knoxville has not exceeded 13,000 in any local or national election. The Negro vote is now between

800 and 1,000. There is but slight effective political organization among Negro voters. As usual, Negro ward heelers sell out

the black vote to white candidates. It is felt that Negroes in Knoxville have a fine opportunity to hold the balance of power | in the city’s politics if they would only exercise the franchise. It is estimated that about 15 percent of the Negroes of voting age actually vote. White candidates for office in Knoxville give some recognition to the Negro vote, but the black vote is not considered sufficiently significant to modify any candidate’s program or platform.™

Thomas L. Cummings, who became mayor of Nashville in 1938, was formerly a successful criminal lawyer, and in this position he had established contacts with Negro racketeers and bootleggers. When he became a candidate for office, he relied upon these men to deliver the Negro vote for him. Jack Keefe, Cummings’ first opponent, made the main issue of his campaign the fact that “Bill” James, a Negro numbers baron, was investing

heavily in Cummings’ campaign. This attack on James was interpreted as an attack on the Negro people and drove most Negroes to vote for Cummings. Although Negroes supported Cummings, they voted against his choice for city judge. The incumbent was noted for his courteous attitude toward Negroes 10. James Jackson’s interview with C. W. Cansler, Knoxville, Tennessee, November 1939. 11. James Jackson’s interviews, Knoxville, Tennessee, November 1939.

462 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

in his court. Notwithstanding Cummings’ bitter opposition to him, he was reelected with a blanket endorsement of the Negro vote. In the August 1938 Democratic primary for sheriff in Nashville, the mayor’s choice for the office—one Ivey Young—

Was nominated and subsequently elected. Sheriff Young then appointed a number of anti-Negro deputies who were subsequently very brutal in their treatment of Negroes. When election time came again, the mayor conducted a personal campaign in

all of the Negro wards in support of the incumbent sheriff, but Negroes went to the polls and defeated Young.

Negroes in Nashville have just begun to participate in the Democratic primary. For years they voted Republican and, therefore, were not influential in local elections. The Republicans never put up a candidate, thus leaving the Negroes virtually inactive politically in city elections. It is only in the last three years that Negroes in Nashville have been an important influence in local politics. President Roosevelt has not been able to carry any of the Negro wards in Davidson County.!” Practically all of the Negro voters in Arkansas were Republicans until the GOP adopted its lily-white policy for the South and evicted Negroes from political participation. Of the seventyfive counties in Arkansas, the Negro population is predominant in three of them— Hempstead, Jefferson, and Phillips. Negroes, however, do not hold a single elective office in the state. Arkansas has always been classified among the “bad” states on Negro disfranchisement. It is highly improbable that more than 7,000 or 8,000 Negroes are ever permitted to vote in the state.

Negroes are excluded from the Arkansas Democratic primary. But several years ago they won a temporary injunction against the Pulaski County Democratic party (the county in which Little Rock is located) restraining the Democratic party from denying Negroes the right to vote in the primary. Subsequently, when a permanent injunction was sought, it was denied, and the state supreme court affirmed the ruling of the lower court in denying the petition for a permanent injunction. A more detailed version of the Arkansas Democratic primary injunction petition is presented by Dr. J. M. Robinson, president of the Negro Democratic Association:

In 1928 a group of Negroes . . . formed themselves into the Arkansas Negro Democratic Association for the purpose of mobilizing the Negroes of the state for participation in the 12. James Jackson’s interviews, Nashville, Tennessee, November 1939.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 463 national election of that year and to use the activity and interest on the part of Negroes in this election to build an organization which could conduct a fight for the removal of present restrictions on the right of franchise. In the 1928 campaign we had an understanding with the State Democratic Committee and the National Committee to

the effect that if we corralled the Negro vote for Senator Robinson and presidential candidate Al Smith, then we would be admitted to the Democratic primary thereafter.

The following spring, Negroes were denied the right to vote in the Democratic primaries still. Our organization there-

upon immediately sought an injunction in the Chancery Court to restrain the election officials throughout Arkansas from interfering with the voting privileges of Negroes. Our attorney handling the case was John H. Hibbler. A tempo-

rary injunction was granted us, and we struck off a gentlemen’s agreement with members of the State Central Committee of the Democratic party . .. acting under the instructions of Senator Joseph T. Robinson and others... wherein we would operate continuously under this temporary injunction and, through a process of evolution (allaying the prejudices of the white Democrats ), evolve into the party permanently without further litigation. We operated under this agreement and injunction for a period of two years and did vote in the primary. Then, our attorney (whom we suspect saw in a prolonged court struggle an opportunity for personal agerandizement as well as rich financial returns ), decided to go back to the court and ask for a permanent injunction and was denied, and also the temporary injunction was dissolved.

The decision was upheld by the Arkansas Supreme Court (1932). Immediately an appeal was taken to the United States Supreme Court on various contentions, but the Chief Justice denied a hearing on “lack of grounds for jurisdiction.” Our petition has again been filed with the Arkansas State

Democratic Central Committee, and they will probably approve of our receiving a temporary injunction anew, under the original conditions, with the qualification that we give

assurances that we will not push the question in the city, where we are likely to face concerted reaction from white Democrats.'* 13. James Jackson’s interview with Dr. J. M. Reynolds, Little Rock, Arkansas, December 1939.

464 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

It is said that a few Negroes have always voted in the Demo-

cratic primaries in Jefferson and Hempstead counties “out of the charity of an election official.” The claim is made that in the

1928 campaign for Senator Robinson and Al Smith a Negro campaign manager was appointed in the state to work with the Negro vote. The state went Democratic by only 30,000 votes, and of this majority 20,000 were cast by Negroes. This is almost certainly a greatly inflated figure. In 1937 a special senatorial election was held in Arkansas to fill the seat of Senator Robinson, who had died. It is claimed that in this election the Negro vote held the balance of power for the first time in the last three decades. In this contest John E. Miller ran as an independent Democrat and opposed the Democratic committee nominee, Governor Carl Bailey. In the general election, about 6,000 Negroes voted, of whom 1,000 were in Little Rock. Miller,

in sub rosa fashion, solicited the Negro vote and received it, and won the election. The Negro vote in Arkansas is of some significance in bond issue elections and occasionally in the gen-

eral elections, in those rare instances when the choice of the Democratic party has an opponent." Because of the Texas primary cases, a great deal of attention has been attracted to the plight of the Negro voter in that state —perhaps more than any other Southern state. There is no uniformity with regard to the Negro’s political status in Texas. Although the basic pattern is one of exclusion from the Democratic primary, the Texas Negro of the urban areas does wield a considerable degree of influence. A good many Texas Negroes even vote in the Democratic primary, despite the exclusion rule of the state committee. In central Texas, especially, the Negro

makes his presence felt in local politics. The chief barriers to effective Negro political participation are, of course, the white primary and the poll tax, and the latter also impinges upon the rights of white voters. We have no reliable estimate of the number of Negro voters in Texas. If the computation includes local elections as well as general elections, the total black vote must be considerable, perhaps 50,000. We were able to do only a very

limited amount of field work in Texas, and this in great haste. Negroes have been active in San Antonio politics for a long time. In 1910 John G. Tobin, as county sheriff, deputized Negroes to hunt for a notorious ax-slayer who had killed an entire Negro family and several other individuals. Tobin, who became 14. Ibid.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 465 mayor in 1918, represented the beginning of the San Antonio political machine, and his Negro aide was Charles Bellinger. Tobin died in office during his third term as mayor and was succeeded by “Mac” Chambers. Bellinger also supported the Chambers administration. In Chambers’ last administration (1931), he went to the state Democratic convention and sought to have the white primary law repealed. It is said that he appointed more Negro policemen, detectives, sanitary inspectors, and street workers than any other mayor of the city. Mayor Chambers was succeeded in 1932 by Charles K. Quin. Under Quin the San Antonio machine reached its acme of corruption and control. Quin maintained his power over the Negro

through Charles Bellinger and by parading the ghost of John Tobin before them. Bellinger’s ascendancy as a Negro political leader came about through his success as a gambler. He came to San Antonio around 1907 from Lockhart, Texas. Under Tobin he operated saloons and made money. Through his wealth, he financed the campaigns of Democratic candidates in the city, plus bearing, personally, the entire expense of Negro campaigns. The benefits received by Negroes from all of this political activity have been purely incidental. San Antonio whites are said to have been traditionally friendly to Negroes, and this is cited as the basic reason for the paved streets, equal teachers’ salaries, and other favorable aspects of municipal services for Negroes in the city. As for Bellinger, he was a menace and a great harm to Negro progress because of his unrepresentative stooges, who got positions of responsibility through his influence in the city hall and the school board. Bellinger of San Antonio, Negro political boss, built up his political influence on money—a typical Tammany Hall politician in bronze. He was king of the lottery, allowed no competitors, and used his lottery kingdom to deliver votes for the candidates who would promise protection to his racket. He was arrested for evasion of income taxes in 1935 and died the following year. In the Maverick-Quin mayoralty contest of May 1939, Charles

Bellinger’s son, Valmo, supported the Quin machine and carried the East Side and East End Negroes of San Antonio for Quin. The younger Bellinger has ambitions to wield the influence of his father, but he lacks the ability and the following 15. The material on Texas contained in this chapter is based on James Jackson’s field notes, February and March 1940. —ED.

466 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

which the elder Bellinger commanded. Valmo Bellinger was ar-

rested by city police in San Antonio on 23 February 1940, in connection with lottery operations there. At the same time, Harold Mann, formerly known as the “first lieutenant” in the various enterprises of the late Charles Bellinger, was also arrected on the same charge; that is, “keeping and exhibiting a policy game.”

Although in 1939 a grand total of 5,580 Negroes were registered in San Antonio, only about 50 percent of this number actually voted. About 31 percent of this number voted for Maverick in the May 1939 mayoralty contest.

Out of a Negro population of approximately 90,000, there are about 8,000 Negroes in Houston who have paid poll taxes. Negroes in Houston are not permitted to vote in any city, county,

or state election, but can vote on bond issues and in school board elections. A few Negroes have voted in the Democratic primaries. Some election judges are known to have said that they had no objection to Negroes voting in the Democratic primaries.

It is estimated that in Beaumont there were four hundred

Negroes who had paid poll taxes and were qualified to vote in 1938. Of this number, it is said that about one-half were eligible to vote by virtue of exemption from tax payment. Negroes under the leadership of the Laboring Man’s Protective Association sought admission to the Democratic primary in the city elections of 1934, and many Negroes were permitted to vote in that primary. In 1936, however, when Negroes sought the right to vote in the gubernatorial contest, they were denied participation in the Democratic primary. Negroes vote in the city elections and the bond issue elections in Dallas. The city elections are nonpartisan, general elections. The Negro is not an issue in the political campaigns, and white candidates often quietly solicit the Negro vote. On 30 December 1938, there were 3,400 Negroes with poll taxes paid and qualified to vote in Dallas, out of the city total of 32,000. In the past four years the Negro vote in Dallas has been used as the balance of power in city elections. It is said to be about 90 percent organized through the efforts of the Progressive Voters’ League. As a result of organizational efforts, Negro leaders report, the number of black votes in Dallas has increased from

1,900 in 1936 to 7,000 in 1940, out of a total registration of 39,000. A prominent Negro citizen of Dallas observes:

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 467 I believe the only way in which Negroes can advance in politics in Texas is by allying themselves with progressive or politically opportunist forces in the Democratic party; that is, to form a combination with the political majority of whites who are within the Democratic party. The Negro must declare himself a Democrat and thereby seek to win support of white party members for letting down the barriers to Negro participation in the primaries.

Since the municipal elections in Austin are nonpartisan, general elections, Negroes are able to vote in them. Of the 18,000 Negroes in the Austin population, from 1,200 to 1,500 are said to be registered voters with poll taxes paid. As a result of their political activities, Negroes have secured several city jobs, though these are chiefly of a menial character. There are four Negro city policemen in Austin, several garbage men, a

proportionate number of trash collectors, and janitors in the city buildings. There is an adequate recreational center for Negroes, embracing 131% acres, with a swimming pool, a lighted football field, a softball diamond, and a full-time recreational director. Some border states have never employed severe measures to curtail Negro voting, and in these states the black vote has be-

come a real factor to be reckoned with. While this political privilege has failed to solve the major disabilities of race for this

group, it has been something of a leavening influence, and it tends to result in generally better treatment insofar as edu-

cational, health, recreational, and other such facilities are concerned, not to mention employment in state and local governments. Kentucky displays a minimum of Jim-Crowism toward Negro political participation. It is not possible to say just how many

Negroes vote in this state, but the figure would certainly be somewhere between 80,000 and 100,000. Negroes participate freely in the Democratic primaries, and in the neighborhood of one-third of the black voters are now supporters of the Democratic party. Kentucky, like West Virginia among the border states, is distinguished by the fact that in modern times a Negro has been elected to its state legislature, and now sits there. The percentage of Negroes in Kentucky is even less than for the nation as a whole. The main center of Negro political activity is to be found in Louisville. Here again, however, the Negro voter is

468 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

confronted with the twin problems of machine control and venal, self-seeking political leadership.

In 1930 Louisville had a Negro population of 47,354— , equivalent to 15.4 percent of the city’s inhabitants. It is estimated that there are approximately 30,000 Negro voters in Louisville. Until 1933 the vast majority of these voters were Republicans. The Negro politicians were traditionally preachers,

professional opportunists, racketeers, bootleggers, and exconvicts, and this is largely characteristic of Negro political leadership in Louisville today.‘ In 1931, however, a Negro attorney named C. Eubank Tucker

began to discern the strategic value of a sizable black Democratic vote in a political community in which the Negro vote had always been pledged a priori to the Republican party. The fifty-

eighth assembly district in Louisville is 95.5 percent Negro. Numerous efforts had been made to elect a Negro from this district, but the white Republican committee would not yield to the

demands for a Negro candidate. In 1931 attorney Tucker walked into the Republican headquarters and insisted that the GOP committee withdraw the white Republican candidate in favor of a Negro. This the committee promised to do but subsequently welshed on its promise. When the next election occurred, in 1933, Tucker himself filed as a Republican candidate.

He did not have the support of the Republican machine, however, and was defeated. Tucker then went to the Democratic

organization. The Democrats, with nothing to lose, readily withdrew their candidate and made Tucker the Democratic standard-bearer in the fifty-eighth district. Yet in spite of the fact that Tucker—a Negro—ran against a white man in a solid Negro district, he was defeated—indicating the strong Republican sentiment among the Negro voters in the district. This episode had repercussions, however, for the agitation aroused by Tucker’s fight deflected enough Negro votes to the Democratic ticket to cinch the victory for the Democrats over the city administration. The new Democratic city administration gave full credit to the Negro vote for giving it the margin of victory. Since 1933 there has been a considerable shift of the Negro

vote to the Democratic party in Louisville. This has been in part the result of the attractiveness of the Roosevelt New Deal program to Negroes and in part a consequence of the fact that 16. This discussion of Negro politics in Louisville is based on James Jackson’s notes of interviews conducted in January 1940. —-Ep.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 469 a Republican candidate for mayor was accused of being a member of the Ku Klux Klan and failed to deny the charge. When the

Democrats assumed power in 1933, they shared some of the patronage with Negro supporters. Among these jobs were the following: a deputy in the county clerk’s office at $150 a month; a deputy in the county tax assessor’s office at $150 a month; a

stenographer in the county court at $125 per month; a deputy recorder in the magistrate’s court at $125 per month; twelve or more inspectors in various city departments; two foremen in the department of public works; and a deputy in the internal revenue office. A second colored fire company was established in the east end of the city. A probate commissioner in the county court was appointed on a fee basis. The men put in these positions were key men in the Democratic machine structure— precinct leaders, ward leaders, and so forth. For the most part, they have followed the narrow course of self-interest and have entrenched themselves in their positions. Itis thought that there are about 9,000 qualified Negro voters registered as Democrats in Louisville. The Negro electorate is split by factionalism, however, and it is difficult to get the majority of Negro voters to support a black candidate. In November 1938, for example, Dr. Sweeney, a Negro dentist, ran for

| the school board and could have won by a clear victory had he received a solid Negro vote. Although Louisville Negroes hold the balance of power in local elections, the machines of the victorious party pay off for Negro support not in substantial benefits to the Negro community but “in condoning vice and giving the underworld Negroes certain license,” says a Negro minister. Despite the size of the black vote in Louisville and the political influence of Negroes, there are no Negroes on the county Democratic committee. Although there are Negro Democratic precinct leaders, they are not chosen by the Negroes themselves, but are appointed by the county Democratic committee. According to Barry Bingham of the Louisville Courier-Journal, his newspaper

“has been most sympathetic to the political aspirations of the Negro people. It has been interested in getting a Negro on the board of aldermen from the seventh ward, also a Negro member of the board of education. We supported Charles W. Anderson’s candidacy for representative to the state legislature.” The Negro vote in Oklahoma has been estimated to be as high as 60,000 or more, and it should show a steady increase. A con-

servative estimate of the total Negro vote in the state today would be about 50,000. Roscoe Dungee, editor of the Black Dis-

470 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

patch and the outstanding Negro political leader in Oklahoma, in discussing the political status of the Negro, says: In the last [1938] primary, it was our vote that represented the balance of power in electing Governor Phillips. In areas in which the Negro population is dominant, we have all Neero election officials. We hold Democratic caucuses and elect

Negroes to the county and state Democratic conventions, notwithstanding the fact that this 1915 registration law [the law which succeeded the grandfather clause] is still on the books. When J. B. Robertson was governor, we developed a strategy for effecting a practical invalidation of the registration law by supporting nonracial administration measures. For instance, Governor Robertson sought to pass a highway bond issue which was opposed by most of the whites, but I hammered away in rmy newspaper for the bond. This action,

in turn, obligated Robertson’s faction to the Negro, and he didn’t dare enforce the registration law against the interest of the Negro. Likewise, with each successive administration, we

got on the Democratic bandwagon until now they have in fact—if not in law—-rescinded the registration discrimination. In the last gubernatorial Democratic primary, Negroes cast over 40,000 votes. ... Local office-seekers here in Oklahoma City have always made a strong bid for the Negro vote. Even the most vicious Negro baitor, as for example “Alfalfa Bill” Murray, will get a dozen Negroes and pay them five dollars a day to work among Negroes for his election. I managed Senator Thomas’ campaign in the last election

and was provided with an expense account and elaborate headquarters. I also managed Governor Marland’s state campaign among Negroes.!7

Despite the legend concerning Roscoe Dungee’s political power and his ability to influence the Negro vote, another promi-

nent Negro, the purchasing agent for Langston University, observes :

The Negro electorate is not disciplined at all. Negroes have political organizations on paper, but I question the contention that any Negro in the state can guarantee the delivery of 100 17. James Jackson’s interviews, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, March

1940. The following material on Oklahoma is taken from Jackson’s notes of field interviews conducted in March 1940. —Eb.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 471 votes to any designated candidate. The Negro leaders main-

tain their influence through personal contacts with white politicians and not on a basis of a mass following. Every politician in Oklahoma plays the game for his own self-interest and for what money he can get out of it for himself. No Ne-

ero politician, to my knowledge, has ever acted in the interest of the whole people without regard to selfish ambition.

The white politicians in the state deliberately and successfully keep the Negro divided and split into impotent factions. In the April 1938 municipal election in Oklahoma City there was a weak progressive lineup in support of candidate N. Hall for mayor against Robert Hefner. Hall, an attorney, had labor support. Hefner was the candidate of the Associated Industries and the chamber of commerce. Hall lost by 1,000 votes. The first

ward—the “silk stocking” district of Oklahoma City—voted solidly for Hefner, while the fourth ward—the working-class district—voted for Hall, who offered a program of jobs, relief, improved health facilities, and schools. In this election, however, Roscoe Dungee supported Hefner, as did the Daily Oklahoman and the Oklahoma City Times. Thus Dungee played an important role in defeating the progressive bloc. In Tulsa there are ten exclusively Negro precincts where all election officials are Negroes. The Negro district was predominantly Republican until Roosevelt’s administration. Now it is largely Democratic. There is no discrimination against or intimidation of Negroes in politics. Both the Republican and Democratic organizations have Negro representation on their county and state committees and ‘at their conventions. Political affairs

in the Negro district of Tulsa—in contrast with the fact that Negroes are completely segregated—are split up among a great many groups and leaders. There is no centralized political leadership. If Negroes would vote in a bloc, they could be a decisive

factor in Oklahoma elections. In Tulsa in 1937 the local bus company sought to get a twenty-five-year franchise, and it was the Negro vote which carried this franchise. Negroes supported the company because it employs black drivers. In the same year a vote was held on a civil service proposal, and Negroes defeated

the measure because it contained discriminatory clauses. The editor of the Tulsa Eagle informed James Jackson that a group of prominent Negro leaders in Tulsa are attempting

to establish a unified race conscious leadership which will remove the self-appointed political opporitunists and ward

472. THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

heelers from their seats of influence, and unify the Negro vote around a community program. Our political task here is to unify the Negro vote and raise its level of political intelligence toward the end of achieving our full 10 percent share of all jobs in city services in opposition to the hand-out practices of the past. It is said that in Tulsa “Negroes represent 10 percent of the population and also 10 percent of the vote.” Great respect is claimed

for the Negro vote in Tulsa, notwithstanding the fact that it is poorly disciplined. The white politicians apparently spend a considerable amount of money to attract the black vote. Missouri, insofar as Negro voting is concerned, is definitely a border state, and probably 130,000 Negroes vote there. No ereat difficulty to Negro voting now exists, and places like St. Louis and Kansas City are quite similar to Northern cities in the freedom of Negro voting, officeholding, and public employment as a reward for political effort. Negroes vote freely in the Democratic primaries of Missouri, and from 50 to 60 percent of the Negro vote in the state is probably Democratic. The growth of the Democratic party under Tom Pendergast in Kansas City, Missouri, almost wiped the Republicans out of local politics. This was due in part, it is said, to the pressure of the Pendergast machine, in part to disillusionment among Negroes with Hoover Republicanism, and in part to the appeal of the New Deal. In 1936, 87 percent of the Negro vote in Kansas

City was cast for the Democratic presidential nominee. In the 1938 Kansas City municipal election, 72 percent of the Negro vote was Democratic.'® It is reported that the strategy of the Negro political leadership in Kansas City, apart from callous self-aggrandizement, has been in terms of negative voting. That is, Negroes have been content to vote against issues which did not include them rather than to advance a program of progressive issues. The Negro vote in Kansas City has been variously estimated at from 18,000 to 31,000. It is claimed that the sole value received by the Negro voters in Kansas City for their support of the Pendergast machine has been the protection given to the Negro operators for their vices and rackets. No Negroes appear to be represented in any super18. James Jackson’s interview with C. A. Franklin, editor of the Kansas City Call, Kansas City, Missouri, March 1940. The following discussion of the Negro in Kansas City politics comes from Jackson’s field notes, March 1940. —ED.

THE NEGRO AT THE POLLS: THE OUTER SOUTH 473 visory or administrative capacity in the Pendergast organization. All ward organizations have been headed by whites, mostly small-time politicians and racketeers who have depended upon the Negro underworld element to mobilize the black vote. The

election on 19 February 1940 for the amendment of the city charter offered a fine opportunity for Negroes to improve their political status by voting for a one-chamber aldermanic form of government in lieu of the present bureaucratic eight-member council. This would have given an opportunity for Negroes to have representation in the city government. The Negro political leadership in Kansas City was not vigilant, however, and the charter amendment was defeated, with a very small vote being cast. Negro politicians in Kansas City, remarks one Republican ward leader, “place an undue amount of stress on national politics every four years, but are most apathetic and uninformed on local issues. Also the old-line political leaders are opportunistic and selfish with an abhorrence for collective work.”

Out of a population of approximately 23,000 Negroes, there are perhaps 10,000 Negro voters in Kansas City, Kansas. The Kansas City Call reports the Negro vote as 16,026. In the last few years, the political loyalty of the Negro voters in Kansas City, Kansas, has swung sharply from the Republican to the Democratic camp. Negroes received their first appointments in the city departments under a Republican administration, but since the Democrats have been in city hall, they have appointed even more Negroes to white-collar jobs in the city departments. West Virginia is an important border state which we were unable to touch in our field work. It presents a favorable picture of Negro voting, with few if any restraints and an active Negro electorate of approximately 60,000. Negroes have held political office in the state and have been elected to the state legislature. The absence of a poll tax qualification, the fact that itis not a one-party state, and the fact that it eschews the “white primary” are factors favorable to wholesome Negro political participation. West Virginia is a state in which some fruitful digging into Ne-

sro suffrage might be done, especially in view of the fact that the Negro mine workers have learned the lessons of economic as well as political democracy through their membership in the United Mine Workers. For a decade after 1899, white supremacy was the chief issue

in Maryland politics. Three concrete attempts were made by the Democratic party to disfranchise the Negro after 1899: in 1903, in 1909, and in 1911. All of these proposals carried the

474 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

salient features of the grandfather clause. One amendment also included a constitution-interpretation clause. Many Republicans and Democrats opposed these amendments for fear their passage would make Maryland a one-party state. The law of 1900 requiring individuals coming from other states to declare their intentions in a court to vote and requiring a fee of 50 cents is said to be the chief barrier to Negro voting. There is a gerrymander of Negro voting districts in Baltimore which is effective

in local though not in national elections. In 1932 Negroes formed 16 percent of the population of voting age, but were only 12 percent of the voters. Fifty-one percent of the Negro population in Maryland lives in Baltimore.

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FIFTEEN

Negro Voting in AAA Cotton Referenda

THOSE who are eligible to vote in the cotton marketing quota referenda include farmers who were engaged in the production of cotton in 1938 as owner-operators, cash tenants, standingrent or fixed-rent tenants, share-tenants, or sharecroppers. The regulations provide that no cotton farmer—whether an individual, partnership, corporation, firm, association, or other legal entity—shall be entitled to more than one vote in the referen-

dum even though he may have been engaged in 1938 in the production of cotton in two or more communities, counties, or states. Voting by mail, proxy, or agent is not permitted, but a duly authorized officer of a corporation or other legal entity may

cast his vote. In case several persons, such as husband, wife, and children, participated in the production of cotton in 1938 under the same rental or cropping agreement or lease, only the person or persons who signed or entered into the agreement or lease shall be eligible to vote. In the event that two or more persons engaged in producing cotton in 1938, not as members of a

partnership, but as tenants in common or joint tenants or as owners of community property, each is entitled to vote. It should be noted that anyone having an interest in the cotton crop is permitted to vote in these elections and that this includes

sharecroppers and tenant farmers. For example, in Bolivar County, Mississippi, there are about 11,000 producers, of whom some 9,000 are Negro and 2,000 are white. In that county 9,000

votes were cast in the November 1938 referendum, and only some 20 of these votes were in the negative. I. W. Duggan, the director of the Southern division of the Agricultural Adjustment 905

006 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Administration, asserts that there has been no significant white Opposition to Negro participation in these elections. He adds

further that there are no reported instances of any attempt on the part of white owners to coerce Negro tenants or croppers in voting against the quotas, though he is willing to admit that _ there have probably been some unreported instances. It is his belief that any such effort is quite unlikely on any broad scale since, on the whole, the majority of the owners are in favor of control. Moreover, there is an agency in the AAA for the purpose

of prosecuting any irregularity, and the landowners would be taking a great risk. Rather whimsically, Duggan remarked that

control.

there would be greater likelihood that the white landowner would try to coerce both Negro and white farmers to vote for the

There is no evidence of any direct political attack on the cotton control program because of the equal Negro participation in

the referenda. It may be significant that Senator “Cotton Ed” Smith of South Carolina did not oppose the program, despite the

fact that it permitted Negro participation in the elections. It is said, however, that in Senator Smith’s last campaign a printed pamphlet was circulated by a group that opposed him, asking him why he voted for a bill which permitted Negroes to vote on an equal basis with white men. Apparently Smith never made any effort to answer this question and did not raise the issue in his campaign. The most essential factor in the conduct of the AAA cotton control program is the educational work. The purpose of this work is to sell the idea of crop and market control to the farmer, and an elaborate setup exists for this purpose. In the nine Southern cotton states there are about four hundred Negro county ag-

ricultural and home demonstration agents, and it is through them that the educational program is conducted. There are three Negro employees of the Southern division of the AAA: A. L. Hol-

sey, James T. Davis, and Mrs. Robert R. Moton. Davis is the head field worker for the Southern division of the AAA. Holsey and Mrs. Moton are field officers. Holsey is also a publicity agent.

In carrying on the educational work, meetings of the male and female county agents are held in each of the land grant colleges in January and February of each year. These agents are given three days of training in order to acquaint them with the details of the program. Then each county agent goes back to his county, and three or four sectional meetings are called in each state at strategic points. The county agents bring three or four

NEGRO VOTING IN AAA COTTON REFERENDA O07 “key” farmers from their districts to these meetings, and one day’s training on the benefits of the program is given to them. The agents then return to their districts with these key farmers as aids and hold meetings to explain the program to all of the farmers. The vocational agricultural teachers are also employed in this educational work. Male and female agents receive the same training. The Washington headquarters also sends one

or more office representatives to the annual meetings of the Jeanes School supervisors, and the purpose of the program is explained to them. E. A. Miller, the assistant to the director of the Southern division of the AAA, insists that the problem is being approached from the standpoint of the economic interest of the South and that, while there may be some slight maladjustments and mild injustices, the program is generally carried out without regard to race. He emphasizes that there has been a complete lack of political purpose with regard to the Negro appointments in the division. “We think we understand each other,” he observes.! A two-thirds majority of the producers is necessary to confirm a marketing quota. The figures on recent referenda indicate that the quota referenda in the Southern states draw larger proportionate votes than do the political elections. Table 2 indicates the extent of participation by Negro operators in the cotton referendum of December 1938. This table was prepared by James T. Davis and submitted to me on 21 October 1939 from Little Rock, Arkansas. We are told that the Negro churches and life insurance companies in the South have given excellent support to the cotton

control program. Our informants say that the Negro minister still remains the most important influence in the county, and that “we must have him on our side.” The assistant director of the Southern division is the typical

paternalistic, kindly, “confidential” type of white Southerner, extremely courteous and friendly, constantly expressing his feel-

ings on the race question, and stating that it is nonsense that Negroes and whites in the South “do not love each other.” He tells how he has addressed Negro groups in New York and informed them that he is from Alabama. On such occasions he asks how many in the group are from Alabama or other Southern states. He counts the hands that are raised and then tells 1. Duggan and Miller were interviewed in Washington, D.C., on 21 september 1089. The Bunche memorandum does not identify the inter-

008 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY TABLE 2. COTTON CONTROL PROGRAM: :

| Votes Negro COTTON REFERENDUM OF DECEMBER 1938

for illiteracy

Negro White refer- percent-

State County farmers farmers endum age

Alabama Blount Baldwin106 437 9,261 534 26.2, 4,606 2,649 Dallas 6,146 783 3,801 Wilcox 3,716 763 Arkansas Baxter 0 1,5123,431 143 16.1

Boone QO 2,085 22,

Jefferson 5,925 1,712 3,634

St. Francis 4,574 1,784 3,785 Florida Jackson 1,156 2,371 949 18.8 Leon 1,311 356 625

Suwannee 482, 1,382 267

Washington 188 1,016 163

Georgia Appling 17050 1,224 482 19.9 Brantley 718 17 Sumter 1,369 812 860 Taliaferro 674 365 512 Louisiana Allen Parish 178 1,107 346 23.3 Caddo 5,002 1,410 2,,889 DeSoto 3,162 1,352 3,077 Lafourche 54. 1,142 6 Mississippi Bolivar 10,309 1,959 8,179 23.2 Forrest 229 956 392

Harrison 84 1,095 25° Leflore 6,942 888 3,231 Oklahoma Bryan 288 249 3,888 884 9.3 Leflore 469 692 Okfuskee 1,181 2,339 92,7 Okmulgee 1,330 2,204 796

South Carolina Beaufort 2,048 271 1,575 26.9

Berkeley 2,233 875 1,206

Greenville 1,739 5,810 2,,421 Horry 1,1621,992 5,1773,893 528 13.4 Texas Harrison 4,757

Limestone 933 3,630 1,786

Live Oak 2 1,148 330 Lubbock 25 2,,629 1,158

Marion 1,027 571 92.4

them that while he does not know how long they have been “up North,” he knows that they feel that they did not get all that was

due them down South. But he declares that things down there are getting better every day, that deep down in their hearts he knows they “still love Dixie,” and that he is sure that will some day return to their first love. In his estimation, the trouble in the

South results from the fact that there are “two small minority groups’—one in the white and one in the Negro race—which stir up all the trouble, and that if this were not the case, people

NEGRO VOTING IN AAA COTTON REFERENDA 909 would get along together down there. He speaks with pride of the large number of Negro schools in the South, contends that a ma-

jority of white Southerners are interested in seeing the Negro gets a fair break, and cites the fact that counties in the South advance tax money to aid in support of county agencies, to aid in

the support of schools, and so on. He is proud of the fact that men like himself and his chief, Duggan, come from poor classes

in the South and that they are approaching the region’s problems realistically. There can be no doubt that Miller and Duggan are very much elated at the fine support given their program by the Negro producers in the cotton states and that they will bit-

terly oppose every effort to disfranchise the Negro in these

cotton elections. No intensive survey of Negro participation in these referenda has been undertaken. But the field workers, especially George Stoney, picked up some more-or-less incidental information concerning such participation in selected counties in certain states,

and this is summarized in the following pages. It will be seen that, while Negroes have been permitted to vote without serious opposition in the referenda, they seldom serve as committeemen and often are not permitted to, or for reasons of “tact” do not, vote for committeemen. Negroes in Bibb County, Alabama, take a great deal of interest in the cotton elections. Of the total number of contract holders (those eligible to vote ) in the county, 22 percent are Negro and

78 percent are white. Of the total number of voters, it is estimated that 35 percent are Negro and 65 percent are white. It is further estimated that 85 percent of the Negro contract holders vote. The county agent suggests that Negroes take so much interest in these elections because voting is such a strange and “special” privilege for them. Although some of the communities

have a majority of Negro voters, none have black committeemen, and the explanation is that the white farmers would not tolerate it. The percentage of farmers voting in the cotton elections is low “because they know it is going to pass anyway.”? The

results of the elections in Bibb County for the past three years are as follows:

Year Yes No Challenged Total 1938 1,641 08 6 1,705

1939 1,283 1940 1,106 1,139 177 58 p)0 1,199

2. George Stoney’s interview with T. P. Lee, the county agent, Bibb County, Alabama, March 1940. The material that follows comes from Stoney’s notes of field interviews conducted in 1940. —Ep.

910 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

An independent Negro farmer near Notasulga in Macon County, Alabama, states that though Negroes are free to vote in the cotton elections, he does not think this amounts to a great

deal. He and one other Negro were appointed by the Negro county agent to assist in holding the last elections at Notasulga. When they got there, they found that the whites had already set things up and ignored them. He and the other man, sensing the situation, voted and left. He commented: “nobody paid no attention and nobody’s ever said anything about it.” At the time of the last cotton election in Macon County, the Negro county agent appointed several blacks to serve as officers of election. Few of them got to serve, however, because they were

“frozen out.” The Negro county agent did serve along with the

white agent at the courthouse where the biggest voting took place. There are no community or county committeemen in the program who are Negroes. This is because all nominations are made through the office of the white agent. Nominations can be made from the floor. It would be “awkward,” however, and there would be an “open break” which might “cause trouble” if Negro nominations were thus made. Negroes do attend the meetings at

| which the committeemen are selected, but not a great many of them come, because no general invitation is sent to them. Those who do come vote. There has been no trouble thus far about Negro participation in these cotton elections. This is probably because the landlords know that they must have a majority vote to continue the program which they favor.

The Negro manager of a resettlement project at Tuskegee, Alabama, thinks that the “triple A” elections are serving a very useful purpose for Negroes. In the first place, it is familiarizing Negroes on the plantations with reading and writing and with written contracts. It is bringing them some knowledge of their government and giving them practice in voting. In Coffee County, Alabama, the cotton elections occasion lit-

tle interest. There is the feeling that the program will be approved without the need for “one more vote.” The larger number of “no” votes recorded in this county than in the black belt counties is said to result from the larger number of whites and independent voters. Negroes who farm vote in the cotton elections, but “they don’t say much about it.” There seems to be no opposi-

tion to their participation, however, though they rarely attend meetings. In Lee County, Alabama, Negroes take greater interest in the cotton elections than do the whites. Over 60 percent of the Ne-

NEGRO VOTING IN AAA COTTON REFERENDA O11

ero contract signers vote, while less than 40 percent of the whites do so. There are no Negro committeemen, however, although they comprise about 72 percent of the contract holders. The county agent explained this by stating: “If we had, it would mean a nigger’d be working on a white man’s work sheet and he’d have to sit down with that nigger across the table. People wouldn’t stand for that.” Incidentally, this agent is reputed to have done more for the welfare of his Negro clients than any other agent in the state. Several dozen of the Negro clients are buying small farms from the Federal Land Bank at less cost than they could rent a shack in Auburn or Opelika. In connection with the AAA elections in Alabama, every Neero agent is instructed to call meetings of his contract signers and explain to them what the election means. The white agent is supposed to be present, but it is to be the Negro agent's meeting. It has been said that few black agents can get a good turnout unless the letters are sent out over the name of the white agent. On the other hand, experience has proven that few white

agents can explain the program so that Negroes can understand it. The experience of voting and participating in the elections has been of considerable value to Negroes because it has made them aware of the fact that they are “independent farmers,” that they are not inevitably tied to one or another landlord. On the

other hand, it has made the whites aware of the fact that the Negroes have “a few more rights... . It hasn’t been so long since a lot of these big farmers in Alabama thought what mattered to

a nigger, didn’t matter.” The supervisor of Negro work at the

agricultural experiment station at Auburn states that to his knowledge there has never been any friction between the races

at the polls in these elections. A few complaints have been made about the participation of Negroes, but these have come from “a few fanatics who are always scared the nigger is going to get into power politically.” All of these complaints, however, have been outside of the farming field. The percentage of Negro contract signers voting has been

, consistently higher than that of whites. Also the counties with the heaviest Negro majorities always have the smallest percentages of opposition votes in Alabama. The only county where there are Negro committeemen in the AAA program in Alabama

is Hale County. In that county three Negroes serve as commit- } teemen, representing three separate communities. No Negroes are on the main county committee, however. These committee-

012 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

men work on the contracts of Negroes only. In all of the other counties the agents either do not call the Negroes to meetings Where committeemen are elected, or only whites have been nominated. About Negro participation in the cotton elections in Marengo County, Alabama, an officer of elections says: “Yes, they vote, but they don’t know what it’s all about, and we take care that they don't. They vote like we say. The niggers are 17 to 1 in this part of the county, so we don’t fool with them.” The editor of the

Greene County Democrat is much disturbed about the Negro participation in the cotton elections. He notes that the rules require that Negroes vote and, therefore, the landlords are forced to resort to the old methods to “get by”: “I see them riding them

into town in trucks and voting them like cattle. They vote as theyre told.” He admitted that most of these Negroes would probably vote for the program anyway because of the checks. Out of approximately 4,300 people eligible to vote in the cotton elections in Etowah County, Alabama, 3,060 voted favorably in the March 1938 election; 2,212 in the December 1938 election; and only 1,565 in the December 1939 election. There were,

however, only 217 negative votes in March 1938, 404 in December 1938, and 218 in December 1939. The county agent explains that the main reason for the decrease in the vote and the apparent decline in interest in these elections is the fact that “a fellow will go to a helluva lot of trouble to vote agin something, but he won’t bother much about voting for it, especially when he knows everybody else will.” Interest in the program was great when it was first instituted. The few Negroes who have farms

in Etowah County take considerable interest in the elections. The county agent feels that a much larger percentage of black farmers participate in the cotton elections than whites, due to the fact that “it’s the only election they get to take part in.” Of the 1,721 farm families in Greene County, Georgia, about

60 percent are Negro and about 50 percent are tenants. There are 1,321 cotton contracts with 1,700 odd signers. Out of this number about 1,300 vote in the cotton elections. At the last cotton election the “no” vote totaled only 89. Negroes vote freely and in large numbers. According to the county agent: “They

look forward to it... .I don’t think half of them know what theyre voting about.” Some four hundred people attend the community meetings at which committeemen are selected. Since there is a large tenant purchase program and this group also has Farm Security Administration duties, the election is

NEGRO VOTING IN AAA COTTON REFERENDA O13 more important here than in many places. Negroes attend these meetings, though they are not invited directly. Nominations are made from the floor, and Negroes vote. In response to the question as to whether there are Negro committeemen, the county agent replied: “You know that would never do in the world in this part of the country.” There has been no objection to Negro voting in these elections since the little opposition at the beginning. The county agent explains that this early opposition was

quickly quieted when he explained the full program to the

whites. Although there are very few Negro farmers in Hall County, Georgia, these few participate freely in the cotton elections and both attend and vote at the meetings where committeemen are

elected. There was considerable opposition to this on the first vote, according to the county agent, but he states that he had to be firm and told the white farmers that the election would not be legal if the black farmers were left out. He also assured them that they had very little to worry about with so few Negro farmers in the county. According to the county agent of Macon County, Georgia, Negroes take the most interest in the elections “because they don’t have any other election to go to.” The same thing applies to the elections for committeemen. All of the committeemen in the county are white. They are nominated from the floor. At the Cotton Valley meeting last year there was only one white man

present. He was elected the committeeman. The county agent that the Negro farmers present could have nominated a Negro, but he deemed it best that they not do so, because the white people in the county would have become angry, and it would have made it hard for the county agent to get their cooperation.

In Putnam County, Georgia, there are 635 contract work sheets for cotton allotments and about 1,000 individual signers. Of these, only 302 cast votes at the last cotton election, 12 of which were “no.” The reason for the small vote is that the people in the county have been discouraged. The allotments were made when the county was at its lowest production level and the farmers have not been able to increase their allotments. Thus, the program has been unfair to this county in this respect. Over two-thirds of the work sheets are filled out by Negroes, and approximately 70 percent of those eligible to vote in these elections are Negro. But there are no Negro committeemen, though the county agent states that there could be, since all committeemen are nominated from the floor. He cites, for instance, a case of a

014 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

few months ago at one community meeting where everyone present except one person was a Negro. The Negroes nominated

this one white man and elected him as committeeman. The county agent believes that Negroes take more interest than

whites in the program and in the elections. In Burke County, Georgia, about 2,400 work sheets have been signed for cotton this past year and perhaps a third more people are eligible to vote in the cotton election. The total vote for these elections in 1938 was 1,654 “yes,” 52 “no”; for 1939 it was 1,482 “yes,” 17 “no.” According to the county agent, Negroes are “anxious” to take part in these elections. They also vote for committeemen. Often, he states, Negroes have made nominations, but no Negro has ever been nominated. All of the committeemen are

white. Meetings have always been joint—black and white— with the two races sitting on opposite sides of the courthouse auditorium. The Negro county agents come to the meetings and speak. In several sections of the county where the population is almost 100 percent Negro, the meetings turn out to be all Negro,

although this is not prearranged. There has been no protest made about this Negro participation. The reason for this is because no separate start was made. In Beaufort County, South Carolina, Negroes serve as cotton committeemen. One Negro has been elected as committeeman

in the Beaufort district, two alternative committeemen have

: been elected from another district, and all three of the committeemen from the St. Helena and Lady’s Island community are Negroes. But the assistant county agent explained apologetically that “I use them as little as I possibly can,” and that this has “happened” because the Negroes were so much in the majority at the meetings and had nominated their own members as well as the whites. Although the whites in Saluda County, South Carolina, resent any attempt by Negroes to vote in political elections, blacks vote freely in the cotton elections. There were some complaints from the whites at first, but according to one prominent Negro in the community: “When they found out Daddy Sam say do that, they didn’t try any mess up.” While the cotton elections in Saluda County are thought to have had little or no effect on the white political vote, the feeling is that it has caused Negroes to begin “getting restless.” As the clerk of court for the county puts it: “Sure. They all vote in that. They think it’s big. Nine out of ten don’t know what the hell they’re voting for.” No attempt is made here to appraise the cotton control pro-

NEGRO VOTING IN AAA COTTON REFERENDA 915 gram itself in terms of Negro or white interest. Suffice it to say that Negro cotton producers, either independently, by the “educational” propaganda carried on by government agents, or by direction from white landowners, overwhelmingly support the program in the referenda. This is significant in many ways. Not

the least significant is the experience in voting practice obtained by Negroes in these elections and the fact that whites are not horrified into repressive action at the sight of large numbers of Negroes casting ballots at the referenda polling booths.

Moreover, the Negro who participates in these elections must inevitably develop a new perspective—he finds himself for the first time cast in an active role as a citizen in a democracy; he is

permitted, even urged, to express his will on a matter of important government policy, with the knowledge that his vote will influence public policy as it relates to his own interest. There is, of course, one other aspect of this process that cannot be ignored. The landowner is undoubtedly often able to direct the tractable Negro to vote in accordance with the wishes of the landlord. The protective machinery of the AAA is not effective enough to prevent this. But more important still, perhaps, is the fact that the government bureaucracy is able to employ this same tractable Negro vote to assure acceptance of its program. I suspect, however, that virtually the same situation prevails with regard to the poor and often illiterate white cotton farmer.

SIXTEEN

Some Notes on Republican Politics in the South

IN 1938 former Republican chairman John D. M. Hamilton made a strong bid for the anti-New Deal Democratic vote in the South. In a speech before the Alabama state Republican conven-

tion in Birmingham, he characterized the Republican party as the “only organized champion of Jeffersonian philosophy,” and he proposed a union of “rural Democrats” and Republicans. Hamilton’s arrival in Birmingham marked the first time a Republican national chairman had ever come to Alabama to drum up votes. There was, asserted Hamilton, “no insurmountable barrier between the real Democrats of the South and the Republican party,” for “today we are speaking a common language

with many Southerners.”! Hamilton’s visit, which admittedly was made to pep up and help revitalize the Republican party in Alabama, was hailed by Southern Republican leaders as the first step in a new drive to end the South’s solid support of the Democratic party. It is not without significance that the Willkie campaign is now beating drums all through the South. The chief forces now in evidence in support of the Willkie campaign are the Georgia and Alabama Power companies (subsidiaries of Commonwealth

and Southern), the Duke Power Company (North and South Carolina), and various Northern concerns with offices in the South. In Alabama the combine has employed its old lobbyist and political handywoman, Mabel Jones West, to head up the campaign. This lady politico and ex-Klan member formed the League for White Supremacy in Alabama in 1928 to defeat the Republicans. She is now leading Willkie’s fight. On 24 July 1940 1. Washington Evening Star, 25 June 1940.

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O74 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

populated Negro area stretched about seven miles long and a mile and a half wide, starting from the Loop (Chicago’s downtown district ) and running southward. Packed within the confines of this area were 191,001 Negroes, or 80 percent of all the city’s Negroes. This is Chicago’s famed “Black Belt.” Most

of the Negroes who came to Chicago were adults and consequently of voting age. The political activity of the Negro in Chicago began very soon

after he was enfranchised in Illinois in 1869. Despite the fact that the Negro electorate was small during this period, John Jones, a Negro businessman, was elected a commissioner of Cook County in 1871. Five years later a Negro was returned to the state legislature. By the 1880s Chicago politicians, including such Democrats as Mayor Carter Harrison, were catering to the small Negro vote. As early as 1897 the Broad Ax, a Negro newspaper, became the official organ of the Democratic party among Negroes in Chicago and operated for about thirty years thereafter. One of the earliest issues of this paper endorsed the Democratic party and urged Negroes to split their vote. The large majority of the newcomers from the South could not think of the Republican party without thinking at the same time of Lincoln, emancipation, rights as American citizens, phi-

lanthropy, and Frederick Douglass. They had implicit faith in Douglass’ warning that “the Republican party is the ship—all else the sea.” On the other hand, mention of the Democratic party was the stimulus that gave rise to such abhorrent thoughts as slavery, oppression, lynching, the Ku Klux Klan, and disfranchisement. Most of the early Negro political leaders were from the South and were dyed-in-the-wool Republicans with no in-

clination to shift party allegiance. Democratic party leaders in the North realized this hostility on the part of the large Negro addition to the electorate and attempted to gird the party by subjecting the European immigrants (particularly the Irish ) to intense propaganda against the Negro. Many of these Europeans became staunch Democrats because they saw in the migrant Negro a potential competitor for the unskilled and lowpaid jobs in which they were told they had a vested interest. These circumstances probably account for the fact that no strong Negro Democratic leaders appeared on the American | political scene before the 1920s. The Negroes in Chicago began their very active political participation in 1915, when William Hale “Big Bill” Thompson was elected mayor. The fact that Thompson’s success was due al-

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH O79 most entirely to the heavy Negro vote cast for him in the first and second wards indicates the extent to which black voters were active. Thompson was not one to overlook this fact, and during the three terms he served as mayor, he took great pains to maintain the goodwill of the Negro citizenry. Thompson did his job well, for he established a control over the Negro vote which seemed impossible to break. This faithful devotion of the Negro electorate to the Republican party did not receive a serious jolt until the economic crisis of the early 1930s. As the New

Deal program swung into action, the Democratic machine in Chicago became more powerful and the small minority of Negro Democrats soon became a majority. By 1939 there were indications that the Democratic party had taken over the Negro vote almost as completely and strongly as the Republicans had under Thompson. Notwithstanding this shift in local party loyalty and the distasteful policies of Herbert Hoover, Chicago Negroes gave the Republicans 76.6 percent of their votes in 1932. Experts believe

that one of the most important reasons for the heavy Republican vote among Negroes in 1932 was the fact that John Nance Garner, a Southerner from one of Texas’ worst towns so far as they were concerned, was Roosevelt’s running mate. Not until 1934, two years after the New Deal had been initiated, did Chicago’s Negroes show any signs of deserting the Republican ranks. The intensity of the depression and the assumption of relief activities by the government were probably the most important factors in this switching of party loyalty. Other factors which contributed to this realignment of political allegiance were: (1) the friendly attitude of the Democrats as reflected in the appointment of a Negro ward committeeman in 1932, and the support given to a Negro congressional candidate in 1934; and (2) Roosevelt’s increasing popularity. Since Negroes first won places as aldermen from the second and third wards (1915 and 1921 respectively), they had been consistent Republicans in this area up to 1939. In that year the Negro Republicans were replaced by Negro Democrats. Except in the sixth ward, Democratic aldermen were elected in all the wards in which Negroes were numerous enough to be a definite political factor.

| It is the contention of several prominent Democrats in Chicago that Mayor Edward J. Kelly hired more Negroes than received city government jobs under Mayor Thompson. Of course, the Negroes received these jobs because the black electorate

076 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

was an important cog in the Democratic party machine, and the most effective method of building up and maintaining a worthwhile machine is to make patronage available to the party workers. According to Edward Sneed, the only Negro Democratic committeeman in Chicago, some forty-five precinct captains in the third ward alone were city employees. Although most of these jobs are of the minor variety, they serve as an index to the degree of recognition the Democrats are now according the Negro voters. Under Kelly, Negroes were also appointed

to many upper-bracket positions. The chief elective offices to

which Negroes were returned through Democratic backing were: United States congressman, from the first district (Arthur W. Mitchell ); state senator, from the third district; county

commissioner; and alderman, from the first and third wards. In addition to the ordinary methods which are employed by politicians to build up an effective political machine—getting jobs for voters, doing small favors, securing bonds, or reducing sentences—the Democrats had an unusual advantage over the Republicans which has enabled them to keep many of their Negro supporters in line. The Negroes of the city felt the worst pangs of the depression and, as a result, swelled the ranks of the unemployed and indigent. When the government took over the administration of relief, the Democrats were in a position to manipulate the relief and the WPA. Still another factor which has had its effect upon the recent political activity of Chicago’s Negro electorate is the wave of trade unionism which swept the city. Chicago is one of the leading union cities as far as Negroes are concerned, and the CIO is the Negro’s choice in the majority of instances, since the AFL has been traditionally discriminatory in its policies. Not only were the employed Negroes unionized to a large extent, but even the unemployed were recruited

by organizations of the unemployed, the most important of which was the Workers’ Alliance of America. It is claimed that over half of the membership of the Cook County local of the Alliance is Negro. In Chicago, as in most other cities, the Negro church occupies a most important position in politics. In all of the Northern communities the influx of Negroes during the period of migra-

tion greatly increased the number and membership of Negro churches. Professor Gosnell estimates, on the basis of the 1930 census, that more than half of Chicago’s Negro voters were church members and that about a fourth of them attended regular Sunday services. Any politician would look upon this as a

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH O77 source of votes worth tapping. The problem of utilizing the Negro church is simplified to some extent because the preachers have rather strong motives for playing the great American game. A large number of the churches are mortgaged to the hilt,

and not infrequently the congregations are poor. In most instances, the purchase or erection of a building presents a serious

problem to the minister. Seeing a chance to ingratiate themselves and, at the same time, obligate the church, the politicians have been very liberal with loans and even gifts. During a political campaign it is not hard to find a white or Negro candidate sharing the church platform with the clergyman during Sunday morning services.

Being obligated by loans or gifts is not the only reason for many ministers entering politics. Sometimes enterprising members of the cloth rent their pulpits to politicians, that is, charge a fee for opening the pulpit on Sunday to candidates. Then, too, there are those men of God who solicit campaign funds in return for the delivery of a certain number of votes. A Chicago

preacher of the Father Divine type is described as the liaison man between the politicians and gangsters on the one hand and the Negro masses on the other. The employers pay this minister very well. At election time he is kept very busy, since he is one of the instruments in keeping the Negro masses “in line.” Finally, there is that small group of ministers who sincerely believe that though the game is “dirty” it presents the only opportunity for really making some gains for their people. If this is possible, they are willing to “soil their hands.”

In their efforts to capture the Negro electorate, politicians have used, and now utilize, any media which reach this special group. Next to the church, the Negro press is probably most im-

portant in this connection. Generally speaking, Negro newspapers are weeklies, with circulations which are too small to be attractive to big advertisers. In addition to this, it is no easy

matter to interest a businessman in advertising through a medium which reaches, for the most part, that segment of the population comprising the lower economic level. This is a serious financial handicap. The result is that the Negro press is made particularly susceptible to the proposals of politicians and

others who are interested in having a say in the matter of “running the town.” In Chicago only the Defender and the Bee have stood the test of time since 1919, when seven weeklies were published. Almost without exception, when one hears the term “political

078 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

machine,” he immediately thinks of “corrupt politics.” Chicago, which made international headlines for years on account of its

underworld activities, has its share of this sort of thing. And the Negro underworld comes in for its share of notoriety. The vice lords and their cohorts occupy a rather privileged positjon and are subjected to what might be termed protective custody. The racketeers and small-time criminals insure their freedom of action by making themselves as useful as possible to the politicians. A sizable portion of the so-called “protection payoff” is devoted to campaign contributions, and the “big shots” exert

all their efforts to deliver as many votes as possible to a “winner.” It should be reported that one of Chicago’s most famous

policy barons and a few lesser lights in the underworld furnished the funds to keep a WPA project running for Negroes.’ A graphic picture of the connection of Chicago’s politics with

the underworld is given as follows. There are three units: A, “down town,” headed by the mayor; B, “the ward committeemen”; and C, “precinct captains.” The racketeers of various kinds are usually in class C. Jobs and protection go from A to B to C. The protection money or the “payoff” goes from C to B to A. Much goes on in the Negro underworld that needs protection. The ward committeemen usually have well-paid jobs in the city administration. The precinct captains are the vice

lords.

As in most cities of any size, the Negroes of Chicago have been made very much aware of the existence of the Communist party. To anyone who is even casually familiar with the effect of the depression on the Negro, it is easy to understand why the Communists considered the time ripe to appeal to American Negroes. The Communists took full advantage of the depression crisis and put their very best tactics into operation in Chicago.

Yet, in spite of the high pressure tactics of the Communists, only some five hundred Negroes are estimated to have become party members. In the first place, the Negro church and religion possessed too strong a hold on the underprivileged masses who happened to be doing most of the suffering. The ministers took a militant stand against the “Red Menace” and did their best to counteract the propaganda. Secondly, the industrial squad of

the police department, commonly referred to as the “Red Squad,” had no reputation for gentleness. Demonstrations were 2. Gunnar Myrdal’s interview with Horace Cayton, Chicago, 2 Jan-

uary 1940.

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH O79 forbidden, meetings raided, leaflets confiscated, and, more often

than not, leaders and speakers beaten up and incarcerated. Finally, the coming of Roosevelt and the launching of the New Deal relief, labor, and social legislation knocked much of the

wind out of the Communists’ sails from the point of view of propaganda. The participation of the Negro in politics has secured for him a number of desirable jobs. The chief source of employment in this group is the postal service. Of the municipal departments, the public library, the health department, and the water bureau have been most liberal. Negroes have also secured more positions on the city’s police force than in any other American com-

munity and have attained the rank of lieutenant and sergeant. There are also several high school teachers and principals in the city’s school system. All of these employment opportunities

are attributed to the Chicago Negro’s general participation in the city’s politics. The Negro voter in Chicago has traded on political loyalty. He has exercised his political privilege within the shadow of machine politics, and he has reaped gains in the form of jobs, municipal services, and some voice in city affairs.

But he has not shared in the most lucrative kinds of graft that have been typical of Chicago and all machine-ridden communities. There have been no large Negro contracting firms to bar-

gain for city contracts, no Negro banks, Negro realtors, or Negroes in those administrative posts which provide the best op-

portunity for harvesting the “spoils.” The Negro spoils have been chiefly petty—police “protection,” court “fixing,” and so forth. The important jobs obtained as political rewards by Negroes in Chicago have, in addition to their economic significance, a prestige value for the group. They afford a new tone, a psychological “lift” for the entire Negro community. Another result of Negro political activity in Chicago has been the stimula-

tion of race-consciousness among white voters and those of other minority groups. The first Negro to hold an elective office in Cleveland was

John P. Green, an attorney, who was elected as justice of the peace in 1873.3 Although this was a minor political office, it was regarded as very significant that a Negro should hold it in those days. Green served in this capacity for nine years and then was elected for two terms to the lower house of Ohio’s general assem3. The following discussion of Negro politics in Cleveland is based upon “The Cleveland Negro in Politics,” a memorandum prepared by Harry E. Davis, a Cleveland attorney and politician, in March 1940. —Eb.

980 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

bly. He wound up his political career by serving a term in the state senate. Since the time of Green, whenever the Republicans

have carried the county, a Negro has represented the district in the state legislature. Beginning in the late 1890s, there was a heavy influx of Negroes in Cleveland which soon augmented the black population to the point that it was a substantial voting bloc. This sudden increase resulted in the nomination and election of a Negro, Thomas W. Fleming, as a councilman at large in 1910. Fleming was the first Negro to hold an elective office in Cleveland’s municipal government. During the wartime migration of Negroes from the South to Northern communities, Cleveland’s black population swelled to about four times its normal size and reached the 80,000 mark.

Naturally this increase had its political effect. Four wards became predominantly Negro, and three wards had a Negro vote which was the balance of power. With the coming of such large numbers of Negroes and their participation in the political life of the community, the Negro councilmen increased to three and this number has been consistently maintained. In 1934 Harry E. Davis was elected as one of the fifteen members of the first county charter commission. This latter election was on a countywide basis. Naturally this impressive Negro voting strength was

considered when public offices were distributed under the patronage system. Davis was chosen as a civil service commissioner by the city council in 1928 for a term of six years and was succeeded by Claybourne George, another Negro, who was appointed by the mayor. George is still in the position. Harvey B. Atkins was elected as an assistant city clerk and has been pro-

moted to first assistant. L. L. Yancy, another Negro, was appointed as secretary of the city planning commission. Charles Smith advanced from the rank of patrolman in the police department to that of secretary of public safety, drawing a police captain’s salary. At the present time, the Negro voters are set - upon electing a municipal judge. An attempt has also been made in recent years to arrange for a “Negro” congressional district, that is, a district so patterned that a Negro congressman might be elected by the black electorate. The widespread political activity of Negroes in Cleveland, according to Harry E. Davis, has also had its effect upon Negroes holding nonpartisan positions. In this connection the board of education has received particular attention. Efforts to have Negroes promoted to principalships and appointed in the city’s high schools got very few results until very recently. In

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 381 1929 Mary B. Martin, a former teacher in the city, was elected as the first Negro member of the board of education. She served

two terms and came back in 1939 for a third term. Political pressure exerted by Negroes also forced the city hospital, which had been a “closed” institution to Negro doctors and nurses for years, to adopt a more liberal policy. This hospital is managed

by the medical school of Western Reserve University under contract with the city. Because “it never has been done,” Negro interns and student nurses were not used. Davis says that continuous pressure exerted by Negro leaders opened both of these positions and secured one staff appointment. Although most of this political recognition has occurred under favor of Republican allegiance, Negroes have recognized the value and merit of independent voting. Except in local nonpartisan judiciary elections, however, there are few contests in which independent voting could be effectively practiced. According to Davis’s memorandum, the same conditions which made for Republican allegiance on the part of Negroes in other communities had similar effects in Cleveland. In an effort to defeat Warren G. Harding in 1920, the Democratic party openly appealed to race prejudice by intimating that Harding had Ne-

gro blood in his veins. In the beginning these efforts were in the form of a whispering campaign, but toward the end of the campaign period, a circular was distributed throughout the country. This appeal to race prejudice caused the defeat of two of the three Negro candidates for the Ohio legislature, but it infuriated the black voters and further postponed the tendency to vote a split ticket. Negroes had begun to show their resentment against Republi-

can indifference and neglect even as early as 1900. But it took Franklin D. Roosevelt to wean the Negroes from Lincoln’s party. This was in 1936. In Cleveland every Negro ward went Demo-

cratic and local Republican leaders were unable to stem the tide. Davis points out that this complete reversal in party allegiance was due chiefly to Roosevelt’s relief policies and that Negroes admittedly voted for “bread and butter” in preference to outworn party allegiances. Davis substantiates his contention by pointing to the fact that in the 1937 local elections the Negro wards returned to the Republican column and are still there and that even in the 1936 Democratic landslide several “homeowning” precincts in one densely-populated Negro ward voted the Republican ticket. The local Democratic party realized the

possibility and desirability of capturing the Negro vote. In

082 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

order to accomplish this the Democrats very openly used the tremendous amount of patronage at their disposal. Negroes were appointed as ward leaders, ward organizations were set up, appointments to public office were given rather generously, and “relief” was used to further their ends. Arthur L. Taylor explains the numerous appointments of Negroes to public office by pointing to the support given to Governor Martin Davey by Negroes in 1935. During the Davey campaign a state-wide Negro Democratic organization was formed under the name of the Ohio State Negro Democratic League, with Thomas Davis as its head. This organization still functions and publishes the Ohio Democrat. The Workers’ Federation of Ohio came into being early in 1936, apparently as an organization to protect Negro workers in the WPA, but it was very active in Cleveland during the presidential campaign. The Glenville Civic and Progressive League is an example of one of

the first Democratic organizations established during the administration of Mayor Ray T. Miller (Democrat). It has been active but not very influential in local, state, and national campaigns. A similar organization is the Young People’s Civic and Progressive League under the leadership of Dr. L. L. Rodgers. The personal leadership of several Negroes holds the various Democratic organizations together rather loosely, but internal strife and the lack of capable leadership have prevented the formation of any well-organized Democratic Negro organiza-

tion which would compare favorably with those of the Republicans. Harry E. Davis characterizes the Negro leadership in Cleveland as “good on the whole, though not exceptional or brilliant,” and states that it has generally been able to unite on candidates and issues. He readily admits that these leaders have not been idealists; but they have been “practical” men and have followed

the political pattern woven by the dominant group. Under the spoils system, the Negroes have played the political game along

the prescribed lines and have demanded their share of patronage. In Cleveland Negro leaders, “by diligent effort,” have acquired a new dignity in the inner circles of both party councils. Negroes no longer stand by meekly and take orders, but their advice is sought and respected, and they are not timid in expressing themselves. Davis puts the finishing touches on his picture of Negro political leadership with the following: Moreover, Negro leadership in Cleveland has always insisted upon social justice, and social freedom for the colored

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 083 group. Leaders have uniformly demanded that colored people be not subjected to social insult, ignomy, humiliation and discrimination. In the past twenty-five or thirty years there has

been a persistent and unsuccessful effort to obtain public recreational facilities, libraries, schools, adequate transportation and well paved, well lighted and clean streets in colored residential districts. Further, the areas of tolerance have

been explored and expanded by tactful and unobtrusive effort.

Davis attributes the ability of the Negro voters in Cleveland to cast an effective ballot to the regular schooling in marking ballots given by the leaders. Although this procedure lends itself to machine voting, it has some wholesome values. When the proportional representation system of voting was effective in Cleveland, a checkup showed that there were fewer ineffective and void ballots in the Negro precincts than in the so-called “intelligent” wards. Negroes were quick to accept instruction about anything that pertained to the franchise. Davis’s account mentions the fact that the foreign groups brought some left-wing radicalism to Cleveland which has affected the “political complacency” of the American tradition.

The various radical movements, however, have gained only negligible adherence from Negro voters, and what little exists is attributable to the “radical assertion of complete racial equal-

ity.” The Negro voter is naturally conservative, and is only moved from his conservative attitude by economic stress or racial persecution. In commenting on Davis’s account of “radicalism” among the Negroes in Cleveland, Arthur L. Taylor of the Neighborhood Association of Cleveland says:

Actually, membership in either party (Communist or Socialist ) has never been widespread among Negroes in Cleveland. The Socialist Party probably numbered a few prior to “depression” years and these, for the most part, were of higher

intellectual level than the larger numbers who became active with the Communist Party and its inspired organizations during the early years of widespread economic depression. Participation on the part of Negroes in the activities of the Communist Party, although at no time very considerable in view of the total Negro population, was more in the nature ' of an economic necessity. The council of the unemployed, for instance, appealed to them as one agency for bringing attention to their economic plight. Mass demonstrations constituted a new technique of protest for them and unity with

084 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

whites encouraged them, but the element of social equality had little or nothing to do with the large majority. With the advent of more permanent relief administration, through federal, state and local agencies, these demonstrations became less necessary and Negro membership in the

Communist Party and its inspired organizations reduced correspondingly. At the present time there are probably not more than 100 Negro members in the Communist Party in Cleveland.

In addition to the various organizations prevously mentioned, there are several youth councils, religious and civic, which attract the interest of the young people of the city. Davis claims

that all of these activities have contributed to the “increased

respect which is accorded the Cleveland Negro.” Frequently the city council has adopted resolutions denouncing the subversive

activities of such organizations as the Ku Klux Klan and has endorsed antilynching bills. Recently a site on two main thoroughfares was set aside for a monument to the late Colonel Charles Young, a Negro military hero, and the city authorities gave their approval to a proposed Negro cultural garden. Davis, in commenting on the city’s press in its relationship to Negroes, says: “Newspapers report colored activities fairly and with rea-

sonably adequate space; the word ‘Negro’ is capitalized as a part of newspaper policy; reference to race or color in crime ‘news’ is carefully deleted.” Practically every civic movement invites Negro representatives and “scrupulous care is taken not to offend the sensibilities of a group who admittedly are sometimes oversensitive.” Davis regards the ballot as the most potent weapon in securing for the Negro in Cleveland his political and social advancement. Negroes came to Detroit in very large numbers during World

War I. According to the 1920 census, the Negro population, which had been about 6,000 in 1910, had reached the 40,000 mark, and the next census (1930) indicated that this figure had grown to over 120,000. During the early twenties, jobs were

so plentiful that there was very little competition for employment. But the efforts of the new arrivals to find living space and decent quarters did give rise to clashes between the races.* The city is divided into twenty-two wards. The political impor-

tance of these is negligible, since the constables are the only 4. The following discussion of Negro politics in Detroit rests heavily upon T. R. Solomon, “Participation of Negroes in Detroit Elections” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan, 1939). —Ep.

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 985 officials chosen on a ward basis. Two of these officers are elected

from each ward on a nonpartisan basis in odd-numbered years .-- and serve as execution and process servers. Although this office | is looked upon as rather unimportant, Negroes have been elected ward constables for many years. Within the city of Detroit are three state senatorial districts and portions of four others. Except for the third senatorial district, the Negro population is a decided minority. In the third district there are about 69,000 potential voters, and of this number approximately 32,000 are Negroes. In 1926 and 1928 a Pole was elected from the third district. In 1930 a Negro was elected to the state senate for the first time, and at every election since that time one has been a candidate from the third ward. Evidently this third ward has a large number of Poles, because the office of state senator from this district seems to alternate between Poles and Negroes. The former won the seat in 1932 and 1934, while the Negroes took over in 1936 and 1938. The population of four congressional districts is largely centered in Detroit. Of these four, three have large Negro populations. For some unaccountable reason, no Negroes attempted

to secure an elective office from the first district—the most populous black one—and neither did they exert any telling in-

fluence on the choosing of congressmen until 1932. This political awakening came too late, for there was a reapportionment

in 1931 which rendered this heavy concentration of Negro population ineffective as a political factor. The fifteenth district,

which was created by the redistricting process, took in the 15,000 Negroes who were originally in the thirteenth. This reduced the potential Negro vote in the first district to 46,196.

After eliminating the unnaturalized foreign-born in the first district, the Negro voters are outnumbered three to one. DeSpite this fact, however, a Negro has won the Republican nomination for Congress ever since the district was established; but just as regularly as he has been nominated, he has been defeated in the regular elections by the Polish Democrats.

Detroit’s politics are on a nonpartisan basis, and all of the city’s elective offices are on a city-wide scale, except for the relatively unimportant office of ward constable. This tends to elimi-

nate racial and minority group representation. Obviously the successful candidates for elective offices must enjoy city-wide popularity and support. The Detroit setup also frustrates the building-up of a political machine comparable to those in many other cities. Up to the coming of Roosevelt in 1932 Michigan was a Re-

086 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

publican state, and nomination in the Republican primary was usually equivalent to election. Until recent years the Negro in Michigan was a Republican of long standing. In outlining the

Negro’s political achievements in the state, the Michigan Freedmen’s Progress Commission stated in 1915 that Negroes “have held positions all the way from delegates to the national convention down to committeemen in the Republican organization and from member of the legislature to ward constables in elective offices and not a few appointive positions.” When the direct primary law was adopted in 1905, the practice of party bosses’ nominating Negroes to office ceased. This cut a sizable slice out of Negro political participation, and no Negro held an

, elective office in Detroit, except for ward constables, until 1930, when Charles A. Roxborough was elected to the state senate as a Republican. Roxborough was in the legislature because he was a representative of a Detroit district which was largely inhabited

} by Negroes, rather than because his presence pleased the party bosses.

The Republican county committee and county convention have had Negro members. But until 1928 there were very few Negroes at the county conventions. Prior to that time the convention was a caucus, with very informal rules as to its composition, time and place of meetings, and so on. Since 1928, however, the delegates have been selected by the party voters in their precincts. Naturally, those who wished to gain control of the conventions tried to secure delegates from the Negro precincts. Consequently, Negro delegates have increased in number. Usually there are between 130 and 160 such delegates present. At the 1938 convention there were 142 Negroes. Negroes have also gained membership on the Republican state central committee. Detroit Negroes officially became a part of the Democratic organization in April 1932, as a result of the efforts of Harold Bledsoe, Charles Diggs, and Joseph Craigen. Since 1932 Negroes have held several high offices in the Democratic party setup in Detroit. They have been elected as delegates to the county convention, as division chairmen, and as congressional district vice-chairmen. Chairmen of congressional district delegations to state conventions and members of the state central committee are other Democratic offices which have been held by Negroes during their brief period of participation in the party. In 1936 Bledsoe was chosen as a presidential elector with a larger vote than that received by Frank Murphy (now Associ-

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 087 ate Justice of United States Supreme Court). Negro sentiment has shifted markedly to the Democratic party in recent years. When Negroes became numerous enough to be a political factor in Detroit, white politicians sought all practical methods of getting themselves before the Negro electorate. Because of the necessity of building up a large personal following throughout the city in order to be successful, no groups could be ignored.

Soon it became apparent that the most effective method of contacting Negroes was through the churches and the ministers. The usual procedure here was to have the minister present the political aspirants to his congregation at the Sunday morning services. Several Negro ministers enjoy the privilege of sending mem-

bers of their congregations to the Ford plant with letters of recommendation which are honored by the company, and their churches have taken on the character of employment agencies for that concern. The fact is that the possibility of getting a job at the Ford Motor Company has been the incentive in many instances for Negroes’ joining church. Naturally a minister en-

counters least difficulty in running his church when the bulk of his congregation is gainfully employed. It follows that the minister will cater to the positions taken by the company which employs large numbers of his flock. The control gained over these churches by the Ford Company has its vicious aspects. The position of the plant on political matters is easily determined, and when such position is made clear, the ministers whose recommendations are honored by Ford lend their influence to support that position. The stranglehold on the churches by Ford is clearly illustrated by the fact that in 1936 and 1937 several Negro ministers closed the doors of their churches to members of the race who were regarded by Ford officials as radi-

cal. Any advocate of trade unionism is placed in this category by plant officials.

Another evidence of the tremendous political influence exerted by the Ford Motor Company is the Wayne County Voters Districts Association, which is the largest Negro Republican club in the city. This organization is sponsored chiefly by Willis Ward and Donald Marshall, Negroes employed by Ford in the plant’s employment office. Ward, a former University of Michigan athlete of note, is one of the personnel officers. Ward’s

real job is organizing political clubs among Negroes, in an effort to throw the Negro vote to the Republican party. Ward has said that no one sent to him by the Democrats need expect to

088 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

get a job at Ford as long as he is a personnel director. Since the main incentive for joining this Republican organization is the hope of a job, the members are not necessarily loyal Republicans. In fact, many people believe that some of the members go through the motions of being Republican, but actually vote Democratic when they enter the polls. In Detroit, as in other cities, the daily papers constitute one

of the most important agencies in influencing elections. The Negro weekly papers, however, do not enjoy such an important position. The Negro weeklies are very unstable and in most cases appear only for the duration of the election period. The fact that none of the papers which appeared in 1932 are now in circulation is evidence of the sporadic nature of the Negro papers. The number of Negro papers at any particular time varies in direct proportion to the intensity of election campaigns. The owners, publishers, and editors of the Negro weeklies, however, look forward to election campaigns since they mean brief periods of prosperity for their publications. The candidates for the various offices purchase all available advertising space in these papers, hoping to present themselves successfully to the Negro public. The white politicians in Detroit soon found out that in order

to marshal the Negro vote it was necessary to have Negroes working in their interests within the black communities. Usually

the Negro chosen by the candidate is made the director of a small group which engages actively in the campaign. Soon this

nucleus branches out and becomes a political club, and the original director becomes a Negro “political leader.” The various

sections of the Negro community have their individual clubs which are also politically active. The Negro Democratic and Republican leaders are active in the city campaigns, but they do not follow party lines. The lead-

ers of both parties often support the same candidates, and it frequently occurs that Negro Republicans and Democrats are found in both political camps during the final campaigns. There is practically no organized political activity so far as the election

of councilmen is concerned, and no Negro councilmen have ever been elected. If all of Detroit's Negro voting population formed a solid bloc, it would still be incapable of electing a councilman without the aid of a sizable portion of the white

electorate. Recently there have been only two political issues in which

local Negroes have been interested as a group. The first is the

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 089 Opposition to police brutality during Mayor Reading’s adminis-

tration. This was probably the principal reason for Reading’s weakness among Negro voters in his campaign for reelection in 1939. The other issue has been the small, unorganized campaign for an increase in the number of Negro appointive and elective positions in the municipal, county, and state governments. Since most of the municipal jobs are under civil service, the demand for more positions has been concentrated upon the Detroit board of education and the county and state depart-

ments. This fight has been led by Snow F. Grigsby and his Detroit Civic Rights Committee. His method has been to bring to the attention of the Negro population the scarcity of Negro job holders in the various departments. Although surveys made by the Detroit Bureau of Governmental Research reveal that a smaller percentage of Negroes of voting age vote than do whites, Negroes hold the balance of power in close elections. Realizing this, both parties vie for the Negro’s support and are giving him more representation. In recent years the election laws of Michigan have undergone several major changes. Chief among these is the provision for a

system of permanent registration. Before this provision went into effect in 1932, electors were compelled to reregister every four years. During the period from 1928 to 1932 the registered voters were designated according to race, “C” being used for Negroes and “W” for whites. This was the only period during which such a distinction was made, and Detroit was probably the only large Northern city where such a record has ever been kept. When the system of permanent registration was put into effect, the practice of designating the race of the electors was abandoned. Michigan’s election laws are very liberal and have no such restrictions as poll taxes, property ownership, or edu-

cational requirements. Clerks in the local election commissioner’s office believe that most of the Negro men who register have employment references uppermost in their minds, rather than the privilege of voting. It is the majority opinion in this commissioner’s office that job references and relief are the chief

motives of most of the Negro registrants from the lower east side wards. There is a rather long period between the time of registration and election day, and although Negroes show much enthusiasm

about registering, they seem to take much less interest in actually voting. The chief factor contributing to this lack of participation in elections is indifference. For instance, on 1 April

090 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

1929, although there was an incentive for a heavy turnout of the electorate, the vote was very light. The incentives for Negroes to vote were (1) Frank Murphy, an avowed friend to the Negro, was up for reelection; (2) Cecil Rowlett, a Negro, was a candi-

date for judge; and (3) a charter amendment to increase the numbers of members of the common council from eight to fourteen on a system of ward representation was an issue. Negroes had the opportunity to elect one of their number to the city court, but there were only 26,850 registered and of this number only 8,356 actually voted. The Negro candidate finished fifteenth with only 14,661 votes and Murphy was second with 80,756 votes. Although Detroit has been Democratic in gubernatorial elections since 1930, the city’s Negro districts remained Republican

until 1936. In 1932 and 1934 small gains within the Negro electorate were made by the Democrats, but it was not until 1936 that Negroes shifted parties to a great extent. In the 1936 and 1938 gubernatorial elections there was a close vote in some of the precincts and huge Democratic majorities in others. The Negro precincts which had the heaviest Republican vote were on the fringes of the Negro section or in the outlying black areas.

The Democratic poll, on the other hand, was strongest in the heart of the Negro district (east side). The east side wards are an extension of the old black belt, including the slum areas in the city. Itis believed that Negroes are habitually straight ticket voters, and if the majority favors the head of the party ticket there will

be a majority of straight party ballots. Other possible explanations for the Negro’s tendency to vote the straight ticket are: (1) unfamiliarity with voting; (2) lack of effective party orga-

nization; (3) limited education; and (4) fear of spoiling the ballot. If one of the candidates for an elective office is considered a friend of the Negroes, they can be depended upon to respond

with a heavy poll. |

During the period from 1928 to 1932, a Negro was chosen

, for the first time in thirty years as a member of the state legislature. During this same period, a Negro was a candidate for judge

| of the recorder’s court but was defeated in the election. Up to the present time, no Negro has ever received enough votes to become a member of the city council. Any move to change the representation on the council from a city-wide basis to a singlemember district basis and to increase the number of representatives would be supported by Negroes, inasmuch as it would

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH o91 probably pave the way for them to get a representative on that body.

In 1937, when the CIO entered Detroit’s political arena with a candidate, Negro support was lacking in both the primary and the regular election. This lack of support for a labor candidate was equally noticeable in the slum areas and the better Negro neighborhoods. The Negro traditionally votes for the Republican

party or for his friend. In a partisan election it is usually for the former, and in a nonpartisan contest it is for the man regarded as most friendly to the race. Then, too, there is almost as much anti—labor union tradition among Negroes as there is anti-Democratic tradition. Finally, when the CIO selected its candidate, it did not trouble itself to choose a man who enjoyed a reputation as the Negro’s friend. St. Louis, which probably should be designated as a border city rather than a Northern community, has a total population of 850,000 people, of which 105,000 are Negroes.® The bulk of the Negro population in St. Louis comes from the Deep South,

and most of this is from the rural sections. As is the case in most of the other cities, the Negro population in St. Louis is concentrated in a so-called Negro section, with a few middleclass Negroes in the outlying districts. Most of the Negroes are

concentrated in such heavy industries as steel and packing. Some 58 percent of the men are in the industries, 26 percent in domestic service, and the remaining 16 percent are scattered

in the various occupations. Less than 5 percent of the Negro women are in industry, but 78 percent are in domestic service. When Negroes came io St. Louis in large numbers in 1917, the Republicans were in the saddle, and their machine was well-

oiled and working very smoothly. It was not long before the Negroes were drawn into the political machine under leaders appointed by the whites to control their votes. St. Louis was under continuous Republican administration from 1909 to 1933, and during this period the average GOP victory was slightly less than 7,000 votes, with the majorities ranging from 2,800 to 30,000. Although registrations by race are not available

for this entire twenty-four-year period, it is considered a safe assumption that at no time were there less than 7,000 Negro registrants, of whom probably not more than 5 percent supported the Democratic party. 5. The following treatment of Negro politics in St. Louis is based on a special memorandum prepared by David M. Grant and Sidney Williams.

092 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

In return for this support, which on more than one occasion has been the margin of victory, the Republicans gave the Negroes only three upper-bracket jobs, which came to be traditional

“Negro jobs.” These were an assistant circuit attorney whose salary was $4,200; an assistant city counselor who drew $2,500 annually; and a chief custodian at a salary of $1,800. But just prior to the first Democratic city administration in twenty-four

years, the Republicans were hiring 672 Negroes in the city government. In 1932; when the American voters had a change

of political heart, St. Louis was one of the many cities that switched its party allegiance. The Negroes of the city played a feature role in effectuating the change in St. Louis, and in return for this support they unquestionably realized some benefits. In the first place, the Democrats opened certain heretofore “closed” positions to Negroes. Between 1920 and 1932 five Negroes were elected to the state

legislature, and at one time two Negroes were in office at once. But since the Democrats won Missouri in 1932, no Negro has

been elected. This is a direct result of the gerrymandering of the old twelfth congressional district under the 1933 redistricting act. This act placed most of the Negroes who were packed into the twelfth district into the newly-created eleventh, which, with its 300,000 people, is one of the largest in the state. Negro leaders realize the effect of this gerrymander, and they are plan-

ning to exert all possible pressure, when the 1941 assembly starts, to redistrict on the basis of the 1940 census. This prom-

ises to be an important issue in the state elections next November.

Another issue which greatly affects both political parties in

St. Louis—and particularly the Negroes—is the manner in which the aldermen are elected. At the present time they are nominated and elected on a city-wide basis. In 1932 this question became a campaign issue, with the Democrats making solemn pledges to see the necessary legislation through if they were

returned to power. In 1933, a Democratic legislature did pass

an enabling act, but that is as far as things have progressed toward eliminating the city-wide vote. Negro leaders have made rather half-hearted efforts to force the board of aldermen on this issue through the initiative and referendum, which are in effect in the state. Generally the Negro preacher’s interest in procuring the vote

for his congregation varies in direct proportion to his own pecuniary interests. Democratic political campaigns have recently

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 093

placed great emphasis on the exploitation of the smaller churches of the store-front variety. After being denied hearings in the larger churches, these politicians have played upon the

petty jealousies of the smaller preachers. In addition, the preachers of these smaller churches are given cash considerations for allowing political propagandists to address their congregations. David M. Grant states that the Negroes in St. Louis are definitely the balance of power and are recognized as such by both parties. He maintains, however, that the tendency of each party is to do less and less for them, the longer its term in office continues. According to Sidney Williams, industrial relations secretary of the local Urban League, the Negro ministers are backward and conservative as a rule. Until recently, they were even against trade unions. The Republican machine had been running the Negro preachers, along with everything else in the town, and had on occasion paid fifty or sixty dollars for their help. As is the case in most large cities, the NAACP has a local chap-

ter with a membership of from 1,200 to 1,500 people, most of whom are Negroes. The primary interest of the NAACP is defending civil liberties in St. Louis. This branch was instrumental in the fight for Missouri’s sharecroppers, and it very frequently collaborates with the St. Louis branch of the National Urban League. The NAACP has the reputation of being nothing more than a part of the Republican machine. There is an organized group of militant Negroes in St. Louis called the “Colored Clerks Circle,” which is carrying on pressure

activities in order to get Negroes employed in the shops which cater to Negro customers. It is not clearly explained whether the Negro underworld and

its various rackets have much political influence, but Sidney Williams did mention to Dr. Myrdal that “gambling and vice are

pretty powerful.” Some indication of the type of vice which exists in the city is given by a Dr. Gray. He says that the prostitutes, and especially the houses where they are kept, had to pay off to the police. He also contends that the city’s program against venereal diseases has actually increased the possibility for the police racketeers to collect money from prostitutes, and that the health department is a means of exploitation in the hands of the police. Evidently the importance of the Negro vote is fully recognized

in St. Louis, because the Democrats, having broken into the winning column largely as a result of it, have taken steps to

094 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

keep the Negro in their political camp. As evidence of their fair and square attitude toward the Negro citizens of St. Louis, the Democrats point with pride to the Homer G. Phillips Hospital, which was built at a cost of over three million dollars. Second only to the Phillips Hospital are the community centers which have been built since the Democrats have taken over. A bond

issue was passed for this purpose and the recommended sum allotted, which sum was augmented by $128,000 from the federal government’s PWA. Two centers have been built and a third is on its way. Missouri has no civil rights law. An attempt was made to put through such a statute, but opponents of the legislation brought up a number of Negro witnesses before the legislative committee

who testified that they were satisfied and that Negroes were enjoying all the rights and privileges which they thought they were entitled to. These Negroes further testified that the Missouri Negro was not concerned about being excluded from certain places of public accommodation. When machine politics are being considered, Philadelphia immediately crops up along with most of the other large metropoli-

tan areas in the United States. During the past few years this machine control has alternated between Republicans and Democrats. In maintaining themselves in power, the machines employ

the traditional elements of control—vote buying, graft, office placing, and so forth. In order to give a clear idea of what actually happens, Wilhelmina Jackson relates the following: While I was in Philadelphia, the primaries for the 1940 election were on, and the race between Guffey (D) and Jones (Republican-supported Democrat) for nomination as U. S. Senator was very exciting. Vote buying was at its height. Into

a neighborhood store in one of the wards walked a white woman worker. “Reserve me chops, beans, tomatoes, etc.,” she said, “and as soon as I go and vote and get my $2.00, Ill be back. Gee, it'll be swell eating like this again.”

Miss Jackson continues: “I was given to understand by several persons I interviewed that such incidents occurred a thousand times or more during the primaries.” The local political leadership in Philadelphia falls into the usual patterns of machinecontrolled personalities who hold various public offices and, ac6. The discussion of Philadelphia politics in this chapter is based on Wilhelmina Jackson’s field notes, April 1940. —Ep.

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 995 cording to Miss Jackson, “pay lip service to ideals and actual

service to money bags.” }

The ranks of the Negro population in Philadelphia swelled during the mass exodus of Negroes from the South during and after the First World War. In March 1939 the city’s Negro population was estimated at 264,000. Naturally this large segment of the city’s population produced its Negro political leaders. One of

the best-known leaders among the Negroes is the Reverend Shepard, a dynamic Baptist minister. Notwithstanding the fact that he has to “play the game” in order to keep in power with the financial controls, Shepard does interest himself in some aspects of community problems. He has taken a very active interest in the activities of the Philadelphia chapter of the National Negro Congress and the local branch of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. The minister is employed in the office of the city treasurer, and while he is described as very

personable, he has numerous enemies who are quite dubious about his selection of individuals for certain jobs. Mrs. Duckett, a Negro woman, has made a place for herself

among the present-day leaders in the city, and is doing pretty well. In describing this lady, Miss Jackson says: “Mrs. Duckett is the Democratic ward leader in the 34th ward, is energetic and ardently pro-New Deal. Mrs. Duckett has a rather large fol-

lowing and believes that the Democratic rule in Pennsylvania is always more beneficial to the Negro voter than the Republican.” She is an active member of the Philadelphia chapter of the National Negro Congress, and believes that the Congress’ efforts

to draw organized labor into community activity will result in healthier politics in the city. Miss Jackson describes a man who probably would not mea-

sure up to the Negro “leadership” standard, but who is really quite influential in Philadelphia’s Negro political activity. This man—Reading is the name—is a printer and operates a shop of his own. Miss Jackson characterizes Reading as “an erstwhile Democrat (now a Republican ) and a behind-the-scenes artist.” Reading is a capable, quick thinking man who wields a powerful

influence through the publication of numerous leaflets of a political nature. Reading’s main publication is a daily one-cent sheet entitled The Political Digest, which has the following subcaption: “A Daily Digest of News of the Political World of Particular Interest to Colored Americans.” Reading justifies his political switch on the basis of the wretched treatment of Negroes

in the South, which is wholly Democratic. Miss Jackson de-

296 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

scribes Reading as very socialistic, and one who is not unaware of the “dirty deals” of the Republicans but feels more like a race fighter with them than with the Democrats. A postal employee, Mr. Jason, heads the Philadelphia Council of the National Negro Congress and has the same views on the spread of the organization as those of Mrs. Duckett. Others

who might be classified as Negro leaders in Philadelphia are Arthur Fauset, school principal; E. Wright, employed in the recorder of deeds office; J. Norris, member of board of revision of taxes; and Eugene Rhodes, editor of the Philadelphia Tribune. Miss Jackson observes that if the positions held by these persons are any indication, one may virtually conclude the character of their leadership—that is, to get the vote out!

The two dominant parties have such political control that it is not very likely that any group without their approval will seriously affect an election. But there are certain hopefuls, particularly among the National Negro Congress members and a Mr. Ames, who is organizer of the cafeteria workers, who believe that, although at the present time labor is not organized in Phila-

delphia, the gradual spread of organization will change the ~ political scene within a reasonable future. The locals of the various unions, many of which are affiliates of the National Ne-

gro Congress, are active in elections; but the pressure of the established poltical organizations with their money and promises almost nullifies the influence of the labor groups in the campaigns. Consequently, at the present time Labor’s NonPartisan League is nearly impotent politically. The Philadelphia press is definitely under party control. The Record is pro-Roosevelt and backed by John Kelly and the Democratic organization. The Tribune is a Republican sheet and prac-

tically under the thumb of Joe Pew. During campaign periods their editorial policies reflect the views of those who support them.

Out of the total Philadelphia registration of 1,018,490, the Negroes have 130,675. Negroes hold many jobs in the local government of Philadelphia and in the state government which may be attributed directly to their participation in politics. According to the director of the Bureau of Negro Research and Planning, Negroes “have tripled their vote and have made gains

so far as political offices are concerned.” Reading the printer says:

Although Negroes participated in politics here long before 1865, it was not until 1910 that we had our first Negro state

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 997 legislator. In the 1921 election we got our first Negro judicial

officer in a minor court of no record, and this position has since been filled by Negroes. In the same year we got our sec-

ond Negro legislator. Mind you, Negroes were elected ad interim to fill out unexpired common council terms until 1935, when the first Negro was selected to fill a council seat (we have twenty-one councilmen ). In 1938 the first Negro woman was elected to the state legislature. In 1934 the first Democratic governor in forty years appointed more Negroes to white collar jobs than his Republican predecessors had in the previous forty years. He was defeated in 1938, and his Republican successor removed all of them, with the exception

of about fifty. It is said that the Republican governor was looking at the Negroes coming from work once—1,500 of them—.and said, “My God, what is this— Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”

Soon after this reductions in personnel took place. This Negro vote, which is said to be responsible for the number of jobs held by Negroes, is divided between the two dom-

inant parties on about a fifty-fifty basis. It is the opinion of some of the Negro politicos that the potency of the Negro vote

lies in its incalculability, that is, neither party can count its Negro votes ahead of time, so they make efforts to line them up. There are some leaders, however, who claim that this fairly even split of black votes tends to neutralize their importance as a decisive factor. To what extent is the Negro vote in Philadelphia a “balance of

power”? Arthur H. Fauset claims that Negroes determined the outcome of the mayoralty race in 1935 and the gubernatorial contest of 1938. Probably the best illustration of the Negro vote as the balance of power occurred in the magisterial election of 1938, when a Negro named Scott was “cut” from the Republican ticket by the party organization on the afternoon of election day. The Negroes in turn “cut” the Republican ticket and rallied be-

hind the “reform” candidate in sufficient numbers to put him across. Mrs. Duckett claims that in a congressional election of 1938, the Negro vote gave victory to a white “New Dealer” over his Negro Republican opponent. Up to 1928 the Negro vote was overwhelmingly Republican, and those Negroes who were early Democrats tell stories of being

stoned and ridiculed by their race brothers for being “Nigger Democrats” when they paraded in party demonstrations through

South Philadelphia as early as 1919. By 1932, however, the division among the Negro voters had become much more evi-

998 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

dent, and the ranks of the Negro Democrats had swelled to rather large proportions. The Negro vote was no longer “solidly Republican.” By 1936 increased registration, more jobs, and the various union leaders’ activities had brought about the present split of about fifty-fifty.

Negroes in both parties are hard-working ward people who

really go to bat for their organizations, but there are shifts among the voters. As one Philadelphian puts it, “the most notable thing about the Negro vote is that it is opportunistic.” Al-

though sensitive to the power of the Negro vote, the major political parties do not appear to have a very high regard for it. According to the secretary of the Philadelphia Urban League,

although the migration in the period from 1930 to 1940 was

much less than during the twenties, the reaction to it was sharp in political circles. Both of the major parties claimed that Negroes were. being brought up from the South to vote; and in the state legislature it was said that the increase in the period of residence for eligibility for relief status from one to two years was made to decrease the Southern Negro migration to Philadelphia. Nevertheless, the Negro vote is still tied to one or the other of the parties, and the reasons are fairly obvious. In the first place, the poor economic status of the Negro makes him susceptible to the machinations of the parties simply because of the various promises of jobs or money. Secondly, and probably as important as the economic status, is the costly lack of effective organiza-

tion among Philadelphia’s black voters. It is said that all of Philadelphia is poorly organized, particularly Negroes. True, there are such groups as the NAACP, the National Negro Congress, the Ethiopian World Federation, several civic clubs in the

various wards, and a few independent unions described by Miss Jackson as “none too dynamic”; but collaboration among

the several organizations on lines of mutual interest seldom occurs. It seems that interest in the voting franchise is a shortlived phenomenon in Philadelphia, and the attitude of the rank and file toward the long-term value of the vote is one of utter indifference. On the days of the primary and regular elections, getting the “organization man” in office and receiving the usual

two-dollar reward for “the right ballot” are the extent of the odrinary voter's interest. The ward heelers and bosses carry on from day to day because the success of their organizations depends upon their daily grind, and in turn, their daily bread depends upon the success of their organization.

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 099 Thus, the political outlook for the Negro in Philadelphia is not particularly encouraging. The one hopeful sign is that the unionization of labor is apparently making some rapid strides, and the organizers have hopes of launching a really effective unit of Labor’s Non-Partisan League. It is believed that such an

organization will stimulate the thought and interest of the voting populace. One Philadelphian has aptly stated the case in these words: “The vast majority, white and colored, are content in this dead city to complacently attend their own wake.” Like other Northern urban communities, New York had its heavy influx of Negroes during World War I and in the twenties.’ Although the black population of half a million does not constitute a very large percentage of the city’s entire population of seven million, it does make its impression on the political life of New York. Harlem became “political-minded” when these Southern Negroes migrated. This is accounted for in large mea-

sure by the Protestant churches, inasmuch as Baptist, Methodist, and “store-front” preachers have been politicians of one kind or another since Negro churches appeared on the American

scene. In fact, if a “political machine” is defined as a “deliverable vote,” the church is the only effective, disciplined machine that Negroes have developed. These politico-clerics were almost entirely Republican, and up to the present time generally maintain their allegiance to Abraham Lincoln’s party. When New York’s Negroes were found on the lower west side, the political lineup was Republican preachers versus “sporting world” Democrats. With the migration to Harlem came socialist

Negroes (mainly from the West Indies) who lined up with Jewish socialist groups in many sections, particularly in the area which is now the twentieth and twenty-second congressional districts. The Socialists in Harlem, like the Communists, never got out any appreciable portion of the vote. Free Thanksgiving and Christmas baskets was very practical socialism as far as Negroes were concerned, and they were won over to this bread-and-meat program of New York’s political machine. During the early days in New York, as in all other places, the so-called better element and intelligentsia among Negroes were Republicans—hence the statement that the first political activity of Negroes in New York found the Republican preachers (leaders of the better element ) lined up against “sporting house” 7. The following discussion of Negro politics in New York depends heavily on a special memorandum prepared by George Streator. —ED.

600 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Democrats. The latter included saloon keepers, hotel proprietors, and the like. In an interview with one of the survivors of this group, the manner in which the Tammany machine worked is clearly outlined. John A. Nail entered the saloon business in 1882 on lower 6th Avenue. He is now eighty-four years old, still active and clear-headed. Like all businessmen who “had any sense,” Nail bought real estate. The business and much of the

: property was located around 6th Avenue and 23rd Street, in what was known as the “Tenderloin” district. Richard Croker was the “Boss” in 1886 when Nail was summoned to the local Tammany club by John Scannell, Croker’s Tenderloin man. According to Nail, the following conversation took place:

‘Tm glad to meet you, Mr. Nail. Sit down and have a

drink.” “IT don’t drink, never did,” said Mr. Nail.

“You and Ned have quite a business, I understand. We want you to head up Tammany among the colored people. You are not to bother with the white people, just the colored. We teach you, you teach them.” Nail says: “Now what was I to do? I had been Republican. But there were too many ways these fellows could make it hard for you, like licenses, taxes, assessments, and so on.” Nail rented a store and started a club. Scannell paid the rent and stood for the “refreshments” used at the initial meeting. “Contributions” were collected from other businessmen in the neighborhood, and the club was furnished. This club was established for the purpose of furnishing a home for Negro voters who would turn to the Democratic party. There were about 1,500 voters in this Negro section, and Tammany wanted them. The first step toward this end was to get many of the wrongdoers out of jail, and since the area included one of the worst slums in the city, there were plenty to get out. The first patronage for the district consisted of two cart drivers and two street sweepers. Nail found difficulty in getting his “club members” to take these jobs. They wanted to be superintendents or nothing. Tammany dispensed its relief in the form of fuel and food. Big packing houses gave meat and the dealers gave wood, coal, and food. The district leaders called on the merchants and forced them to “chip in.” In other words, the political forces “shook down” contributions for their political club members. According to Nail, the line used to reach “around the block.” The

Negro preachers became alarmed by this sort of thing because

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 601 they had been distributing Republican patronage in this form. Little by little Tammany broke into Republican control. The whites began to kick, and on more than one occasion Nail was warned that he was giving Negroes too much. When Nail gave up his job as district leader, he dictated his successor, who carried on the work. George Streator states that the Negroes in early Tammany were hampered by the fact that the educated Negroes remained Republicans. Many persons claim that the entrance of women into Democratic politics raised the tone of Negro Democrats. The first work done to build up the Democratic party among Negro women was undertaken by Mrs. Bessye Bearden, and though several others attempted the task, she was by far the most skillful politician of them all. In January 1925 the Colored Women’s

Democratic League, affiliated with Ferdinand Q. Morton’s United Colored Democracy, is reported to have donated five hundred baskets to needy children. Several of the Negroes who have secured upper-bracket jobs in the city’s Democratic gov- _ ernment obtained them largely as a result of the political activity of their wives. Observing the apparent success of the Republican tactics in controlling the Negro vote, Tammany sought to duplicate the GOP procedure. Under President Grover Cleveland a Negro was appointed minister to Haiti. “Boss” Charles F. Murphy, the Tam-

many leader after Croker, sought to build up in New York a Negro leadership that would match the quality of Republican leadership in the “silk stocking” district. This created an oppor-

tunity for Ferdinand Q. Morton, who had spent some time at Harvard University. There is little doubt that Morton advanced Tammany leadership considerably. Members of Harlem’s Democratic clubs say today that Morton was selfish. When a group | of women started agitating for a Negro judgeship for Harlem twenty years ago, Morton held back his support until the drive gathered momentum. Then he nominated himself for the position! Something of a compromise was struck, and Morton was

given personal recognition; and his present position as civil service commissioner is the result of the bargain. It must be said, however, that he has lent dignity to the position, making it one of increasing merit. Considering the time in which he came along, Morton’s advance in Tammany circles was spectacular. After the war, the returning Negro soldiers seemed to be Republican, but there were events that shifted them toward the

602 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Democrats. For example, during James J. “Jimmy” Walker’s regime as mayor, the administration building of the 369th In-

fantry was constructed. It seems that every politician and would-be politician claims credit for this building, including Fred R. Moore, the Negro Republican leader who “played ball” with Tammany and secured the construction of this building, together with a new police station on West 135th Street. The significance of the National Guard in politics is that almost every officer of the 369th regiment seems to be employed in a federal, state, or city position. The latest census returns reveal that Negroes now dominate the seventeenth, nineteenth, and twenty-first assembly districts of Manhattan, with an appreciable vote in the twenty-second district. The Negro majorities in the nineteenth and twenty-first are overwhelming, while being slightly over half in the seventeenth. A Negro state senator might go through this year, as well as another assemblyman. In 1929 new judicial districts were set up, and it was agreed that the Republicans would have a chance to elect two judges of the city court in Harlem, since Francis E. Rivers, a Republican, was the author of the bill creating the tenth judicial district.

Fate, however, in the form of the West Indian vote, decreed otherwise. Watson and Toney, both Democrats, won. On election morning, 4 November 1930, posters were displayed all over Harlem which declared that Rivers’ skin was too light for him to understand Negro problems, and besides, his father had a “pink

toe” church in Washington, D.C. Watson is West Indian, and that segment of the Negro vote went solidly for the Democrats. But Watson and Toney were put over by the loyal white Democrats; for even with the loss of the West Indian vote, Rivers led in the Negro districts. Mayor Fiorello La Guardia has done much to offset these two Tammanyites with two young appointees. Jane Bolin, a young Negro woman, was appointed to the domestic relations court; and Myles Paige, after two years as a magistrate, was appointed to the court of general sessions. Any treatment of the Negro in party politics in New York must necessarily consider Marcus Garvey’s role in the swing of the Negro votes to the Democratic party. Garvey is credited with teaching the Negro masses to vote against the Republican ticket.

According to George Streator, there is no way of determining whether the Democrats did anything for Garvey, but it is known that Garvey was a Democrat. In 1928 Garvey counseled his “four

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 603 million followers” to vote for Al Smith. Garvey enlisted the West

Indian vote for the Democratic party. The West Indian vote is reputedly clannish. In recent campaigns, some American Negro candidates have emphasized that they were “born in America” or “Virginia” or even “Mississippi.” An attempt is made to make this appeal to prejudice subtle, but it is quite obvious. In the eyes of New Yorkers who desire clean government, the

board of aldermen is the core of the rotten political apple. Neeroes have served on the board of aldermen on several occasions, but with little or no distinction. It seems that Fred R. Moore, the

Republican leader, was the most astute politician to serve on the board. Moore deserves much credit for having wheedled out of a Democratic mayor more than the Negro Democrats themselves. More than likely this was due to Moore’s prestige and his

ownership of a newspaper. He is characterized as one of the really independent Negro politicians—one who had about as much to give as he got out of the political bag. Except for the period from 1922 to 1925, a Negro served as alderman from either the nineteenth or twentieth assembly district or from both from 1920 until 1938, when the old assembly district was abolished as a basis for city representation. The board was replaced by the city council, selected on a city-wide basis by a system of proportional representation. Not until 1930 did a Negro Democrat win a seat. Negro Democrats represented the nineteenth assembly district from 1930 until the abolition of the system in 1938.

Even though there are about 75,000 Negroes in Brooklyn, their political organization does not offer much promise. The Bedford-Stuyvesant section, however, has potentialities, since it is the first large segregated area in Brooklyn. The Brooklyn Democratic party leadership is archaic and distasteful to a growing number of voters, but very little in new leadership is being created. The old Brooklyn Negro was and still is Republican. There is no real “Negro area” among the old residents, and it seems that they were more assimilated in white life than were Negroes in Manhattan. In the old days, Negroes obtained a bit of economic security, then moved out to Brooklyn where life resembled that in the small rural areas. Brooklyn is rapidly changing, however, and the Negro sections are facing overcrowding. This bids fair to change the political side of the picture. It is estimated that about 15,000 Negroes live in the borough of the Bronx. This section is rapidly growing, mainly in Irish

604 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

and Jewish population. Right now it is predominantly Democratic, with a heavy labor vote also. The Negro vote is of little consequence, except to decide small affairs in three or four densely populated areas. Most of the Negroes in the borough of Queens live in Jamaica, Long Island. It is said that the Negro population (about 25,000 ) creates enough of a problem to call for the erection of a federal

housing project. Negro doctors have been rather conspicuous | in getting appointments to the public hospitals, and since it is a part of the city of New York, most of the section’s “leading Negroes” are city jobholders and postal employees. In the past, the Negroes in Queens were Republicans, and those who are not today are largely fusionists. The most important underworld influence upon the participation of Negroes in the political life of New York has been the “numbers” racket. Besides adding money to Negro political ambitions, the “numbers” racket has been the means of developing a force of Negro campaign workers. There is no doubt that support of Negro political leadership has come from the “numbers” barons. They have needed police protection, and a friendly political organization is necessary to their operations. Although

there might be those who argue that Negro politics have been “clean,” it is apparent that there would have been no political success for Negroes, coming as rapidly as it did, without the “numbers” game as a financial background. When Thomas E. Dewey exposed the private life of “Dutch” Schultz and the intri-

cacies and effects of the “numbers” on Harlem politics, it was felt by many that this was political, Republican, anti-Democratic, and a blow to the Negro’s financial and political power. It

was all this and more. One fact concerning the local branches of the Negro’s most prominent national organizations has repeatedly made itself evident and should be mentioned as an introduction to the next few paragraphs. Despite the fact that almost without exception these locals have professed their absolute nonpartisan character, more than a few interviews have disclosed the local branch of this or that national Negro organization as part and parcel of one or the other political machine. William E. B. Du Bois and James Weldon Johnson catered to the white university people and their wealth, but the present NAACP officers play up to the political leaders and behave accordingly. It is a matter of conjecture whether the present era of the NAACP shows as much vigor as the old. The setting is different, of course. Not that the

NEGRO POLITICAL ACTIVITY IN THE NORTH 605 trade in votes is in itself a crime, but it is a question of the ability to help an oppressed group by making its best-known organiza-

tion for defense an organization specializing in horse trading. While the NAACP has been getting its political bearings, the Urban League has been more or less keeping in step, too. It is no secret that this organization has entered the field of organized politics. In 1924 and 1925 the literary prizes bestowed by the League on those in the literary circle were provided from cash donated by many political leaders and even by racketeers. Not only that, but the League has developed some of the most astute politicians Negroes have ever had in the New York area. Most of its officials have tasted political plums of varying degrees of sweetness and are still plucking for more fruit. Among New York’s Negro population, the election of James J. Walker to the mayor’s office in 1926 is fondly spoken of as the

“second coming of Christ.” Walker was the most popular man Negroes had ever met in New York politics. The “wet” issue was

important at the time, but Harlem still looked Republican, so Walker set out to corral the Negro vote for Tammany. Most of the gains which Negroes have made in the city’s politics came during Walker’s regime. The number of Negroes put on government payrolls under “Jimmy” Walker jumped from 247 to 2,275. Instead of Harlem’s intellectuals turning to communism, they turned to Tammany. The policy of Walker and James A. Farley of distributing good jobs to deserving Negro Democrats was the attracting force. Walker’s popularity is clearly reflected in the election figures of 1929, when he ran against La Guardia. Despite the fact that Herbert Hoover ran away with the 1928 presidential contest and La Guardia was extremely popular among Negroes, the great “Jimmy” took every one of the Negro assembly districts. Here a word may be said about Joseph A. Gavagan’s twentyfirst congressional district. This congressional district is an over-

whelmingly Democratic stronghold. The Negro vote has been estimated at between 60,000 and 70,000, but the white vote is nearly double this amount. Therefore, says Streator, it must be concluded that Gavagan, while outside the reach of Negro con-

trol, is within the reach of Negro vengeance. That Gavagan sponsored antilynching legislation year after year, and particularly during election years, suggests his realization of this fact. Negroes have no possibility of electing a congressman or a state senator depending strictly on a Negro vote as long as their votes are in the minority.

606 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

New York politics, discussed from any angle, must include Fiorello La Guardia, master showman and the city’s present mayor. La Guardia is a good leader and a popular politician, to whom party lines evidently do not mean much. La Guardia is a candidate frequently photographed with Negroes. He carried his cook’s son to the White House and has been seen holding Negro children in his arms. Under an understanding with the Pullman Porters’ Brotherhood, La Guardia fought to have railroad porters and waiters accepted as qualified persons for jobs on the city’s

subways. Under the present mayor, Negroes have gotten jobs through the civil service and are employed all through the relief

service. La Guardia has been criticized for appointing “big Negroes” to office.

Even in New York, however, it seems that Negroes are confused about political appointments. The bigger things drawn from political power are not grasped by black political leadership. Granted that there are four judges, two legislators, some firemen, policemen, and other city, county, state, and a few national jobholders, there are still many things well within reach which are overlooked by Negro political leaders. No attempt is made here to defend the great American game of politics, but mention should be made of the fact that Negroes do not play the game according to established rules. For example, there are the big department stores which are always angling for tax favors and are willing to act accordingly. Evidently Negro tax com-

missioners are unaware of this. Then, there is the National

Guard regiment. Who makes the uniforms? Who repairs them?

Who cleans them? Who handles the construction contracts? What about deals made on local real estate? Negroes have held jobs which call for evaluating property, and so on, but have seemed unaware of their powers. The utility corporations in the past made many deals for franchise privileges, tax free grants,

and the like, and in each case politics has played an allimportant role. But Negroes in positions to influence such things forget that these corporations hire thousands of employees. Ne-

gro politicians are still in the kindergarten class in the matter of patronage. Most of them can see little beyond the range of their personal friends and relatives; and because of this shortsightedness, patronage granting small favors to large numbers is neglected for large favors to small numbers.

BLANK PAGE

NINETEEN

Negroes and the New Deal Agencies

IN the campaign of 1932 a Negro division of the national Demo-

cratic committee was formed.! Franklin D. Roosevelt was

elected on a platform that promised to help the “forgotten man” and to bring a “New Deal” to the American people. To meet the exigencies of the depression, Roosevelt developed emergency agencies like the National Recovery Administration, the Agricultural Adjustment Administration, the Civil Works Administration, the Federal Emergency Relief Administration, and the Civilian Conservation Corps. The NRA was designed to stabilize

wages and hours, but it did not appreciably help the Negro worker, mainly because of three factors: (1) the codes did not cover the domestic and personal services or the agricultural

, field, where Negro labor is concentrated; (2) they recognized a differential wage that penalized the South, where the great majority of black workers live; and (3) they did not guard against

the prejudicial firing that came with the necessity of paying higher wages to Negro workers.

These factors were recognized by many people who were anxious for the Negro to share in the emergency assistance. In 1934 Trevor Bowen wrote in Divine White Right:

There is generally a differential of 10 to 20 percent against southern workers, on the ground that the cost of living is less 1. What follows is the largest and most significant part of Bunche’s chapter 16, “The Negro Officeholder in the Federal Government.” The historical sections of the original chapter (pp. 1359-84), which dealt with Negro officeholders prior to 1933, have been omitted. —ED.

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610 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY |

in the South. However, the economic Mason and Dixon line

shifts widely between codes, and curiously enough these shifts correspond closely to the proportion of Negroes in the industry. The effect of the administration of the AAA program was especially disastrous on Negro tenants and sharecroppers. The AAA recognized the necessity of government aid to agriculture, but the aid was in the form of payments for the reduction of surplus crops. In 1934 the Annual Tuskegee Negro Conference claimed that the AAA was causing the displacement of Negro tenants

because of its “plow under” program: “The most widespread

reason ... for the dislocation of tenants is attributed to the acreage reduction program. Thousands of tenants thus dis-

placed have been set adrift.” Another grievance was the bad administration of the programs, which prevented the sharecroppers and tenant farmers from getting adequate compensation for their work. There was also evidence of collusion between county agents and owners to the detriment of tenants. Thus, these emergency agencies were helpful in ameliorating the perilous condition of the population as a whole, but because Negroes were affected by the factor of race as well as class there

were many instances in which they failed to profit from early New Deal legislation. John G. Van Deusen, writing on the eve of the 1936 election, remarked: The depression bore with especial hardship on the Negro, and the “New Deal” N.R.A. codes and Agricultural Adjustment

contracts did not operate equally regardless of racial lines. Whatever measures of relief they may have afforded white workers and white farmers, they failed conspicuously to relieve the distress of colored workers and colored farmers.

There have been numerous complaints of discrimination against colored persons on government constructed projects. These facts may send some of the voters back to Republicanism if a suitable candidate can be found.? But the Negro vote went more heavily for Roosevelt in his second campaign than in 1932, and it was not primarily because a suitable candidate was not found. It was because of the transformation of the New Deal, the growth of the labor movement around the CIO, and the corresponding growth in progressive 2. Van Deusen, “The Negro in Politics,” Journal of Negro History, 21 (July 1936): 273-74.

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 611 movements and vocal pressure groups among the Negro masses. There were many Negro leaders who were not willing to fall back on the policy of political opportunism; they sympathized with the broad objectives of the New Deal, yet they vigorously

fought so that the Negro might share equitably in those objectives. The group which formed around the Joint Committee on National Recovery pursued this policy in its highest form. John P. Davis, later the executive secretary of the National Negro Congress, was one of the leaders in this movement, together with several others such as Robert C. Weaver and John W. Whit-

ten. In an article in the December 1933 Crisis entitled “What Price National Recovery?” Davis severely criticized the discrimi-

nation which existed under the NRA codes. He also mentioned the formation of the Negro Industrial League, which was the only organization to testify in behalf of the Negro at the first public hearings on the codes. Through it sixteen other national

organizations formed the Joint Committee on National Recovery. Its purpose was to achieve unity of organizations seeking betterment of the Negro and agreement on a policy, to make recommendations to those officers of the government who had authority to act, and to seek “federal appointment of qualified colored men and women to positions of usefulness to the race.” In 1934 Davis continued to blast away at the contradictions of the New Deal with an article in the October Crisis headed “The NRA Codifies Wage Slavery.” Finally in May 1939, writing in the same magazine on “A Black Inventory of the New Deal,” Davis criticized the unemployment and tenant evictions occasioned by the crop-reduction policies of the AAA. He pointed out

that a national conference on the economic status of Negroes under the New Deal would be held at Howard University under the sponsorship of the social science division of the University and the Joint Committee on National Recovery.

This conference was held on May 18, 19, and 20, 1935. It emphasized the development of pressure tactics in order to gain for the Negro his just share; from it the call went out to “build a National Negro Congress” to direct the efforts of the many and diverse organizations interested in the problems of the Negro and to develop a common program in behalf of Negro welfare. The call for the NNC was issued in late 1935, and it first met in Chicago, 14—16 February 1936. It became a pro-New Deal force

in the 1936 elections. The integration of the Negro into the New Deal through de-

partmental appointments was not primarily predicated upon

612 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

political consideration. It was a recognition of the disastrous effects which the early legislation had upon the Negro because of special racial factors; and in many cases it was a precautionary measure necessitated by the vigorous insistence of Negro organizations upon an equitable application of New Deal measures. Harold L. Ickes, one of the foremost exponents of the New Deal democracy, wrote in the August 1936 issue of Crisis: “. . . under our new conception of democracy, the Negro will be given the chance to which he is entitled——not because he will be singled out for special consideration, but because he pre-eminently belongs to the class that the new democracy is designed to espe-

cially aid.” Speaking of appointments, he declared: “. . . you are probably aware of the fact that no previous administration has provided employment in the various departments and agencies for so many Negroes as this one. This employment ranges from ordinary jobs to executive positions.” In the pages that follow, some consideration will be given to

the various federal agencies, after which a critical evaluation of their administrative positions and the effect of their positions

on the masses of Negroes will be presented. |

THE FERA AND THE WPA

From May 1933 to March 1939 the federal government spent about ten billion dollars for relief and work relief. It was inevitable that a large number of Negroes would be benefited by this program since they formed a highly disproportionate part of the unemployed because of their precarious and subordinate position in the national economy. Concerning the application of the Federal Emergency Relief Administration to the Negro,

John P. Murchison, at one time associate adviser on Negro affairs in the Department of the Interior, has said: In October 1933 there were approximately 13,600,000 persons or 3,450,000 cases on relief, of which 16.7 percent were Negroes. Negroes on relief constitute about 17.8 percent of the entire Negro population. For 1934 the Research Statis-

tics and Finance Section of the Federal Emergency Relief Administration estimated that there were 857,000 Negro cases on relief rolls in May 1934. Because of the foresight of its administrators and the pressure of progressive white and Negro organizations, the FERA recognized that problems of discrimination and equal partici-

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 613 pation would arise, and it took early precautions to integrate the Negro proportionately into its program. In February 1934 Forrester B. Washington, director of the Atlanta School of Social Work, was appointed director of Negro work. But Washington only served seven months before returning to his academic

duties. Since that time, until just recently, Afred E. Smith, as administrative assistant, has directed the staff of workers engaged in the adjustment of racial problems. A release from Smith’s office states: “... this office is charged with administering race relations matters throughout the W.P.A. program. In effect, it is Federal Unemployment Relief’s recognition of Race Relations as an integral part of modern applied social science.” The release, dated 7 July 1938, describes the personnel of the office.

The work of the office is distributed among two assistants, a secretary and four clerical aides. A Junior Race Relations Officer supervises the handling of the bulk of correspondence;

advises on the preparation and submission of proposed projects; and supervises matters generally during the Administrative Assistant’s absence from the office on field trips. A Special Assistant in the Information Service maintains public relations through the release of news articles, photographs

and matrices; prepares exhibits; and prepares replies to requests for various types of information. John W. Whitten held the position of junior race relations officer until he was recently furloughed; Dutton Ferguson, former dis-

trict manager of the Pittsburgh Courier, succeeded Edward Lawson, Jr., as special assistant in the information service. The major activities of the race relations office center around the receiving and answering of correspondence, investigation

of complaints, and issuing of material relevant to the Negro and the Works Progress Administration. The office is consider-

ably occupied with the handling of correspondence, and an average of 7,000 letters are cleared yearly. A majority of these letters are referred to the WPA by the White House, and they are sometimes answered individually because of Mrs. Roosevelt's

desire that White House mail receive more than routine handling. Describing this varied correspondence, the release states:

Balanced against letters of complaint anent the Administration of the program, were a like number of requests for

614 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

jobs in preference to a dole. Other requests for aid ran the gamut from cash donations to piteous pleas for artificial limbs, and from farms and livestock to false teeth. Requests for information covered the relief field and every related subject.

According to the release:

The time of the Administrative Assistant is largely taken up by conferences; he is conferred with by the Deputy Administrator and the Division heads concerning the establishment of projects which include Negro workers. His attendance is required at conferences called by the Administrator and he often hears charges and petitions presented by visiting delegations; he also does considerable work in the field. . . . Dur-

ing 1937, the Administrative Assistant made field trips to 15 States, totaling 12,000 miles. He made 30 public addresses and attended 12 national conventions of Negro organizations interested in the welfare of Negroes.

Those in this office are not the only ones who are especially concerned with the problems of the Negro in the Works Progress Administration. James Atkins has served in the Adult Edu-

cation Division as a specialist in education among Negroes; Sterling Brown is editor of Negro material in the Federal Writers’ Project; and T. Arnold Hill served for seven months as a consultant on white collar workers. The curtailments required by the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1939, against which President Roosevelt protested vigorously, have caused some changes in the race relations office. The administrative assistant also makes an annual report. His 1939 report, entitled “The Works Progress Administration and the American Negro,” makes the following statement con-

cerning 1938 participation of Negroes in the program: : A total of more than 400,000 Negro workers are engaged on projects of the Works Projects Administration throughout the country. Upon these W.P.A. workers are dependent some 1,935,000 Negro citizens who make up the average worker’s family of 4.3 persons... .In Region III during the week ending September 17, there was a total of 137,331 Negro workers on projects of the W.P.A. This Region embraces the densely

Negro-populated States of Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas and Virginia.

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 615 THE CCC

From the beginning of the Civilian Conservation Corps, colored youths have shared in the program. At the peak strength of the CCC, reached in August 1935, there were 506,000 young men

and war veterans enrolled. Of this number, approximately 90,000 were colored. By January 1939 some 200,000 Negro youths had served in the CCC, and an average of $700,000 a month was sent home to colored parents and dependents during the year 1938. Recently, Negro college graduates have been as-

signed to CCC camps as educational advisers; in 1939, 147 were serving in this capacity. A lone Negro, Edgar G. Brown, serves in the national office in an administrative position; he was formerly occupied chiefly with publicity work as director of public relations publicity for the Negro press. His position is now that of adviser on Negro affairs, and although a great deal of his work still involves publicity, he also visits camps, addresses national conventions, and is consulted by the director on problems affecting the Negro. The office employs one secretary and is located in the publicity section of the CCC. Of the various offices visited, Brown’s was

the smallest and most ill-equipped; it was formed by a panel placed across a space at the end of a corridor. THE FSA

The New Deal’s farm relief program was bound to affect Negroes, who occupy a perilous position in agriculture as a heritage of slavery and the plantation system. The exploitation attendant upon this system was already greatly intensified by the crisis

which fell upon agriculture in the 1920s, so that the effect of the great depression was well-nigh disastrous. A Public Affairs Committee study, Farmers without Land, reads: Behind this fact is the loss of tenant farms and the transformation of the Negro tenant into a wage laborer. ... In the cotton areas the breakdown of credit during the depression, the reduction of acreage, and the payment of relief all played a part in lessening the number of tenants or in reducing many to the position of wage hands. The integration of the many poverty-stricken Negro farm families into the Farm Security Administration was aided through the work of Joseph H. B. Evans, race relations specialist. He was first employed as a research specialist in the FERA,

616 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

and then, from October 1934 to 15 June 1935, he served as ex-

ecutive assistant to the general manager of the Federal Subsistence Homestead Division. On 16 June 1935 he became an executive assistant and special adviser to the director of Rural Resettlement, and when this agency was succeeded by the FSA, he continued his duties as an administrative assistant, specializing in race relations. In his personal history sheet Evans states:

My duties have included: Advising with and making recommendations to the Director of the various divisions on matters pertaining to and affecting Negroes in the Resettlement program, handling matters dealing with Public Relations or touching the colored population, explaining to indi-

viduals, in group conferences, and at public meetings the work of the Resettlement Administration... . Reviewing and answering correspondence dealing with the Resettlement program as it affects colored people.

Making such suggestions and recommendations as will insure to colored people a fair and equitable participation in the benefits of the program and in the personnel necessary to carry on this work. Dealing with complaints of discrimination coming from appointive personnel and from Negro labor on projects. Conferring with the Administrator’s Office on matters of policy, and advising of the progress made on inclusion of Negroes in the program; making necessary contacts and confidential investigations in the various regions. Reviewing all plans for projects having Negro participation and making such comments and recommendations as may be necessary. Advising with Division Directors and Regional officers on

selection of Negro personnel and interviewing applicants where such interviews seem advisable.

As a result of these efforts, and with the cooperation of the administrator, Evans points to the following achievements: (1) the participation of Negroes in the tenant purchase program under the Bankhead Act; (2) the employment of Negroes at Washington and in the field; (3) the setting up of twenty-three community projects in which Negroes participate, fifteen of

Which are biracial; and (4) the participation of more than 90,000 Negro farm families who have received rehabilitation loans and grants with supervision of farm practices and programs. Evans administered his office with one secretary. In

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 617 addition there is one specialist in the Information Division, and

recently a farm management specialist has been transferred from the fourth region to the Washington office. Evans is no longer with the FSA, however, and is now employed by the National Youth Administration. His position in FSA has not been filled.

THE FCA

Along with the problems of insecurity of tenants, croppers, and wage hands on the land, there is also that of thousands of farm owners who stand to lose their farms because of debt. This situation has been aggravated by the scarcity of local credit which has made for high rates of interest. In order to meet this situation, an independent agency, the Farm Credit Administration, was created by executive order on 27 May 1933 for the purpose of providing an adequate credit system for agriculture by making long- and short-term credit available to farmers and coopera-

tive business organizations. It is administered by a governor appointed by the president. A Negro relations section, created on 8 November 1933, six months after the establishment of the FCA, was placed under the direction of the late Henry A. Hunt, founder of the Fort Valley Normal and Industrial School at Fort Valley, Georgia, who

functioned as assistant to the governor. He was succeeded by Cornelius King of Louisiana, who directs this office with a secretary and a junior clerk-typist. A specially prepared memorandum for the writer states the “Purpose of the Negro Relations Section of the Farm Credit Administration”:

To publicize the work and service of the Farm Credit Administration among Negro farmers in the United States, and to answer letters of inquiry from Negro farmers on all phases of Farm Credit Administration service, explaining to them

the procedure involved in applying for credit through the various lending agencies operating under the supervision of the Farm Credit Administration. Also to act as an organizing agent for the Credit Union Section by meeting eligible groups of Negroes, explaining to them the aims and methods of the Federal Credit Union Act, and assisting in the preliminary steps for establishing credit unions.

Many Negro farmers are excluded because of certain qualifications which must be met. King explains that the chief causes

618 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

of failure have been lack of collateral or insufficient collateral and lack of clear title to property or failure to cancel previous mortgages. King has devoted a good deal of time to the establishment of credit unions among Negro organizations. There are cooperative thrift and loan organizations supervised by the federal government for the purpose of encouraging regular savings, making useful loans to members at reasonable rates of interest, sharing earnings among members exclusively, and affording a training course in business management and the handling of money. A statement prepared by the race relations section shows that

as of 30 September 1938 the Negro membership in federal credit unions was 3,511, while the total number of shares held

was 30,852. When these statements are kept in mind, while observing the great difficulty Negro farmers have in securing loans because of business-like qualifications, it is possible to visualize the narrow limits within which Negroes generally can partcipate in such a program as that of the FCA. Many farmers who could not qualify had to secure assistance from the Farm Security Administration. THE PWA AnD USHA

The office of the adviser on Negro affairs to the Secretary of the Interior and the office of racial relations in the United States Housing Authority are considered together because of the close administrative relations which have existed between them, and because Dr. Robert C. Weaver has been a guiding force in each. Secretary of the Interior Ickes was the first important official to recognize the problem of assuring the Negro proper participation in and benefit from the various agencies under his direction. A few months after the advent of the New Deal, he established in his department the office of adviser on the economic status of Negroes and called in Clark Foreman, a liberal white Southerner, to administer it. Foreman’s first report to the secretary stated: In accordance with the orders of the Secretary, the Adviser has sought to integrate Negroes into the work of the Department and also to bring to his attention instances of discrimi-

nation. The adviser has been called on by other parts of the Government for help and counsel. At the suggestion of the Secretary he called together an interdepartmental group to

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 619 discuss special problems of Negroes which exceed the scope of any one department. Robert C. Weaver, who came into the office during this period as an associate to the adviser, was elevated to the position of adviser in November 1934. At various times John P. Murchison and Dewey R. Jones were connected with the office as associate

advisers. In January 1938 Weaver was appointed special assistant to the administrator of the United States Housing Authority, and in August 1938 his place was filled by William J. Trent, Jr. The duties of the office are varied, as are the functions of the Department of the Interior itself. The adjustment of personnel problems constitutes a major portion of the work of the office. The office has cooperated with the National Park Service, in its program of organized camping for the underprivileged, to see that these camps are made available to Negroes. Through the interest of the office, employment has been secured for Negroes

in the construction of Grand Coulee Dam by the Bureau of Reclamation. In that phase of its activities concerned with the program of the Public Works Administration, the office of the adviser, in addition to personnel work, has given advice to groups which wished to secure aid from local governmental authorities, and when grants were made, further advice was given toward securing full participation of Negro labor on these projects. This office also conducted a survey of the training and employment of Negro white-collar and skilled workers. Volume 1 of this study, entitled “The Urban Negro Worker in the United States 1925-1936,” was released in June 1939.

The growth of responsible Negro personnel in the Department of the Interior has also been stressed. Speaking in February 1936, Dr. Weaver, then adviser, said: Almost concurrent with the creation of the office of adviser on the Economic Status of Negroes, Secretary Ickes appointed a young, colored lawyer, William Hastie, to the position of assistant solicitor. Today, Mr. Hastie functions as an integral part of the Solicitor’s office. Up to now, 243 Negroes have been added to the Government payrolls by emergency agencies under the administration of Secretary Ickes. While most of this number are employed in traditional occupations, there is a new high in the number of colored persons in responsible positions. In the Department of the Interior and the

620 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Public Works Administration, 22 Negroes have been appointed to supervisory, technical, and administrative positions during the last three years.

Finally, we must note the most recent changes which have occurred in this office as a result of the President's Reorganization Plan that went into effect on 1 July 1939. It was found necessary to sever the office from that of the Secretary of the Interior, and so all functions concerned with this department have now ceased, and the office is now strictly an administrative division of the Public Works Administration under the Federal Works Agency. The title of the office is that of adviser on Negro affairs to the Public Works Administration, and the adviser is directly responsible to the PWA administrator. The personnel of the office consists of five persons. At the dedication of the Howard University Library in May 1939, Secretary Ickes, then PWA administrator, had the following to say concerning the participation of Negroes in the PWA program:

... in 24 of the 48 States and in the District of Columbia, PWA constructed school buildings for Negroes at a total cost of more than $34,000,000. These funds have provided for the construction and alteration of, as well as addition to, 828 different buildings, including a considerable number of libraries. On the whole, 2,885 classrooms have been added, and improved facilities and equipment for about 117,000 students have been provided for. These figures . . . do not include direct PWA grants of $3,502,678 allotted to Howard University, a sum which made possible the construction of six new buildings. He predicated these statements by saying: “I wish that they had shared more largely because their need has been greater, but it should be borne in mind that PWA cannot initiate projects, but acts upon application from states and local communities.” Before the creation of the United States Housing Authority, all low-rent federal housing was administered under the PWA. Dr. Weaver, who became special assistant to the administrator of the USHA in January 1938, had already become acquainted with the problem of integrating Negroes in a housing program through his activities in the PWA housing program. In his 1937 report to the Secretary of the Interior, he stated:

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 621 Since June of 1936 either the Adviser on Negro Affairs or the Associate Adviser on Negro Affairs has visited at least forty of the fifty housing projects now in process of construction. These visits had to do with matters of labor, which in-

clude meetings with union officials, labor groups of both races, leaders in communities, and sometimes with city and district governmental officials. In all cases there was but one

motive in view, and that was to secure the participation of Negroes in the programs of construction as well as the program of tenancy with as little friction as possible. Weaver's experience in this program was very valuable to him, and the PWA was the laboratory in which he developed most of the techniques of racial relations to be employed in the USHA position. The office of racial relations employs, besides the spe-

cial assistant who heads it, an assistant consultant on racial relations, Frank S. Horne; an assistant for Negro labor, Clarence R. Johnson; an assistant for Negro press relations, Henry Lee Moon; and five clerical, stenographic, and secretarial work-

ers. In July 1940 Weaver was transferred to the office of the Defense Committee under Sidney Hillman, where he is to advise on the integration of the Negro in the national defense program. An official statement of the office of racial relations concerning its activities reads:

Within the scope of the U.S.H.A. activities, it is the function of the Office of Racial Relations to make available to the Administrator, and the various divisions of the U.S.H.A. and to the local housing authorities factual data and advice concerning racial policy in regard to project planning, employ-

ment of labor in the construction of housing projects, management policies, and public relations.

The scrutiny of applications is one of the healthy features of the racial policy of the office. In the matter of site selection, for example, one application stated that a certain site was being selected for the purpose of “pushing out” Negroes. The special assistant easily nipped this discriminatory plan in the bud by pointing out in his recommendation to the administrator that this was not in accordance with USHA policy; thus, the application was rejected and a nasty situation averted. The same preventative policy is also applied in the field of

622 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

labor relations. In his early experience in the PWA housing program, Weaver found that it was much better to prevent discrimination against Negro labor in the very first instance than to

step in to make adjustments after a dispute had arisen, for the former made for integration, the latter for prolonged friction. But in preventing discrimination it was necessary to work out some objective measure as to what constituted discrimination. Such a measure was worked out for the PWA programs. Favorable results were obtained from the use of this objective measure, and in most instances the payroll percentage of Negro labor was higher than the percentage which it constituted in the fifteenth census. The assistant for Negro labor works with the USHA Labor Relations Division in order to assure the support of organized labor for this clause.

In the field of publicity the office of racial relations seeks to interpret the program of the USHA as it relates to Negroes. The office prepares pamphlets, magazine articles, and newspaper releases concerning the participation of Negroes in the program and the share of the Negro in public housing. Dr. Weaver also brought with him the personnel policies developed in the Interior Department. Each month his office received a report on Negro personnel in the USHA, and definite

efforts are made to increase appointments in the clerical and higher positions. As a result of this activity, the Washington office contains several Negroes who work outside the office of racial relations in technical, professional, and administrative positions.

Concerning the benefits which the black population has received from the USHA program, an official statement claims: “By the end of July 1939, the U.S.H.A. had entered into contracts totalling $472,745,000 for the construction of 267 projects in 129 communities. These projects will rehouse 101,961

low-income families of which number it is estimated that a third will be Negro.” Many of the problems which prevent the effective integration of Negroes into the housing program will

have to be solved locally because of the decentralized policy of the USHA. One of the most serious of these problems is the inability of the program to accommodate WPA people. Likewise, under the act the USHA can make loans only to public housing

authorities, and these must be set up through state laws. The office of racial relations states that: “In 21 cities, Negroes serve as members of local housing authorities, and in two states there are Negro members on State Housing Boards. Negro Advisory

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 623 Committees have been appointed to work with the local housing authorities in a number of other cities.” THE NYA

On 26 June 1935 the president, by Executive Order No. 7086,

established the National Youth Administration within the framework of the WPA. The NYA from the beginning took frank

recognition of the special problems which beset Negro youth,

and it called in competent Negro leaders for advice. Frank Horne, a former assistant to Mary McLeod Bethune, wrote in October 1937: From the very inception of the N.Y.A., Negroes have been integrated into every phase of its program. Negro educators and other leaders took part in the initial conferences for the setting up of the program. Dr. Mordecai Johnson of Howard University, and Mary McLeod Bethune were appointed mem-

bers of the National Advisory Committee. To promote the integration and participation of Negro youth in the programs, the Division of Negro Affairs was created as an integral part of the National Administrative office at Washington with Mary McLeod Bethune as its Director with an assistant and two office aids.

The Division of Negro Affairs in the NYA also has a favorable administrative position, since it is one of the seven official divisions which comprise the Washington Office. The director is responsible directly to the NYA administrator, and the salary schedule of the division is similar to that of the other six divisions. There is a close relationship between the division and the Negro personnel distributed throughout the various states. This relationship is very important since there are some twenty-three state supervisors of Negro work, the majority of whom are working in Southern states. Although these supervisors are appointed

by and are responsible to the state directors, the Division of Negro Affairs plays an important advisory role in their appoint- _ ment. In addition the division receives monthly reports covering fully the activities of the supervisors. This relation is also furthered by periodic field trips by members of the division. The application of the so-called quota rule is significant when

it is noted that it operates in a sphere in which Negroes have been notoriously discriminated against. Speaking of this national educational blemish, Mrs. Bethune declared in 1938:

624 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Some 230 counties in these states have no high school facilities whatsoever for Negroes, and the great expense of adequate vocational training has kept the Negro masses out of the channel of even this most practical form of education. As a result of the operation of all these factors, together with the fact that being generally deprived of the vote, the Negro is denied a voice in the expenditure of public funds, most Negro schools for the masses have inferior buildings and equipment, shorter school-terms, over-crowded classes, ill-prepared and poorly paid teachers and highly retarded students. Another special problem of Negro youth is met by the establishment of a special Negro college and graduate aid fund over and above the regular quota of Negroes.

The favorable administrative position and efficiency of the Division of Negro Affairs are due in large part to the dynamic role of its director, Mrs. Bethune, a recognized national and racial leader. Speaking of her activities in 1937, Mrs. Bethune said: As director of the Division of Negro Affairs in the National Youth Administration, I travelled over 40,000 miles last year, visited over 70 centers in 21 states from Texas to the Carolinas and from New York to Florida, preaching the gospel of

interracial cooperation, the recognition of Negro needs and the efficacy of trained Negro leadership.

As a result of sympathetic and effective administration, the NYA probably has been more successful than any other govern-

, mental agency in promoting full integration and participation : of minority groups in all phases of its program. THE DEPARTMENT OF COMMERCE

The Bureau of the Census had shown an interest in Negro statistics by the publication of two bulletins on “Negroes in the

United States,” one in 1904, the other in 1915. In 1918 the Bureau published an 844-page report entitled Negro Population

in the United States, 1790-1915. Three Negro clerks, one of whom was Charles E. Hall, prepared the data for this report. With the advent of the New Deal, it was Hall who took the initi-

ative toward getting the office of specialist in Negro statistics established in 1934. Hall was made the specialist in Negro statistics, and he immediately began work on the volume Negroes in the United States 1920—32, which was published in 1935.

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 625 The Division of Negro Affairs which was established in the Bureau of Foreign and Domestic Commerce in 1933 is closely related to the office of specialist in Negro statistics, since it was merged with the latter office in 1937. James A. Jackson first had charge of the division; he was succeeded by Eugene Kinckle Jones, executive secretary of the National Urban League, who enjoyed only a brief tenure. Since his departure the office has not been continued.

In his 1935 and 1936 annual reports, Secretary Daniel C. Roper made mention of the work of the Division of Negro Affairs. The secretary mentioned that for the fiscal year ending 30 June 1935, more than 2,000 Negroes had been employed in various temporary white-collar positions in the department in connection with enumeration and tabulation of census data and other activities. In April 1937 the Secretary of Commerce announced that the work of the division had been merged with that of the specialist in Negro statistics, with Charles E. Hall in charge of the combined work. Hall retired in 1938, and Joseph R. Houchins, former business specialist in the Division of Negro Affairs, was appointed acting specialist in Negro statistics. This office renders service to individuals, organizations, and government units seeking statistical data concerning Negroes or information about organizations composed of Negroes. The office is now chiefly concerned with preparing material on the Negro church. THE DEPARTMENT OF LABOR

Several positions in the Department of Labor have centered around Lieutenant Lawrence A. Oxley, former director of Neero welfare for the North Carolina State Board of Welfare. On 14 March 1934 he was appointed commissioner of conciliation in the United States Department of Labor. The Conciliation Service is maintained for the purpose of finding a mutually acceptable basis of negotiation in cases of industrial disputes. After serving in this position for eighteen months, Oxley was appointed chief of a newly created Division of Negro Labor in the Bureau of Labor Statistics. In an address in 1936 he described some of the research work being carried on in the Department of Labor, mentioning an inquiry being made on the problem of Negro labor.

The department hopes to obtain an accurate picture of the occupational status and employment opportunities of

626 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

Negroes to determine whether Negroes are in general employed in declining occupations and in those occupations that have suffered most during the depression; to secure definite statistical information upon which a redistribution of Negro labor may eventually be made; and finally to collect, analyze, and publish data which will supply public and private agen-

cies with a body of information valuable in planning and fostering their programs. On 1 July 1937 Lieutenant Oxley was appointed field representative for the United States Employment Service. This service operates under the Wagner-Peyser Act, enacted 6 June 1933 and amended 10 May 1935, which provided for the establishment and maintenance of a national system of public employ-

ment offices. Recent reports show that approximately 450 Negroes are employed on the staffs of the public employment service in twenty-four states (this number includes clerical and

custodial workers). With this increase of personnel the Employment Service is developing interest in the special problems of Negro applicants. It has developed an educational program for its entire personnel which recognizes that the Negro appli-

cant has problems over and above those of the ordinary applicant. Under the President’s Reorganization Order No. 1, the United

States Employment Service has recently been transferred to the Social Security Board as part of the newly-created Federal Security Agency. Under this new setup Lieutenant Oxley has received an appointment as chief of the Negro placement service, Division of Special Services. This position, according to a news release, “places upon Lieutenant Oxley direct responsibility for interpreting the placement program and objectives of the U.S. Employment Service to Negroes throughout the nation.” THE OFFICE OF EDUCATION

The Office of Education, from its inception as an independent agency in 1867 on through its inclusion in the Department of the Interior, has shown a healthy interest in Negro education. Each commissioner has devoted space in his annual reports to some discussion of Negro schools and Negro education. A special division of Negro education was established in 1914. This first division was under the direction of Thomas Jesse Jones. In 1930 impetus was given to this work and a new section of Negro education was established in the Division of Special Prob-

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 627 lems. The new service differs from the earlier division in that it

is an integral part of the regular work of the office, it is supported entirely by federal funds, and its personnel is appointed and works under the civil service. The education of the Negro still receives attention through the regular channels of the office, but the special educational problems created by the abnormal socio-economic position of Negroes are treated in the Division of Special Problems, primarily through the specialist who has an opportunity to use the other specialist in the course of his work. Dr. Ambrose Caliver, the present specialist, has been very active in his position, and since his appointment there has been a noticeable pickup in the general service of the Office of Education. He has arranged many programs and conferences. In addition, Dr. Caliver has produced twelve publications, three bibliographies on Negro education, and has himself written a number of articles. THE UNITED STATES PUBLIC HEALTH SERVICE

The United States Public Health Service has a long history and traces its origin to the Marine Hospital Service established in 1798 for the relief of ailing seamen. The present office of Dr. Roscoe Brown, health education specialist, was established as a result of the cooperation of the Public Health Service in promot-

ing National Negro Health Week and in developing a yearround plan for the improvement of the health of the Negro population.

National Negro Health Week was organized around the health philosophy of Booker T. Washington, and, originating in Virginia in 1913, it was soon nationalized by him through the medium of the National Negro Business League. As a memorial to his efforts, the Health Week was set as the eight-day period, Sunday to Sunday, that includes April 5, the date of his birth-

day. As a result of a request for cooperation in 1921 from Robert R. Moton, Washington’s successor, the Public Health Service sent Dr. Roscoe C. Brown, one of its lecturers and special consultants, to the next annual Tuskegee conference. The conference requested assistance in promoting the Health Week and guidance in forming a year-round program. By 1930 a yearround organization, the National Negro Health Movement, had been organized, with the Rosenwald Fund providing financial assistance and Howard University the headquarters.

In July 1932 the Public Health Service began providing quarters and operating facilities for Negro health work. In July

628 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

1934 Dr. Brown was appointed director of this office with the title of health education specialist; the office personnel also includes a clerical and stenographic assistant. The Public Health Service also cooperates in Negro health work by publishing a quarterly, National Negro Health News, and various studies, the most comprehensive of which is “Mortality Among Southern

Negroes since 1920” (1937). During the past two years two Negro physicians, Dr. Harold H. Whitted, acting assistant surgeon, and Dr. William Sperry, special consultant, have been employed for venereal disease work in various states. TRADITIONAL POSITIONS UNDER THE NEW DEAL

Presidential appointments have continued under the New Deal, although to a somewhat lesser degree than under the previous administration. The positions in the Internal Revenue and Customs services seem to have disappeared, but, a larger plum, a

federal judgeship, has been added. The last important traditional position which remains is that of the recorder of deeds for the District of Columbia. The present incumbent is William

Thompkins, a former Kansas City, Missouri, politician and member of the so-called “Big Four,” a group of Negro Democrats

who were active nationally in the 1936 election. Thompkins directs a racially mixed staff of 69 regular employees; he has also set up a WPA white-collar project which at one time employed as many as 250 workers.

Dramatic proof was given recently of the close attachment of politicians and others to the position of recorder of deeds as a “Negro position,” when Representative Ambrose J. Kennedy of

Maryland introduced a reorganization bill for the District of Columbia which would have drastically changed the office by transferring it to a proposed District Department of Revenue. Representatives of several Negro organizations attended the hearings on the bill and vigorously protested its provisions. ‘The

protest was so great that no change was made in the position, and the organizations are prepared to fight against any changes proposed during the next session of Congress. In the consular service two previous appointees, James G. Carter and Clifford R. Wharton, still serve. In the diplomatic service, Lester A. Walton is minister resident and consul general at Monrovia, Liberia.

Two Roosevelt departmental appointees may also be mentioned, because their positions are in departments in which Negroes were appointed early and because both resemble the

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 629 traditional appointee in that they have been active in national politics. Robert L. Vann, who was appointed special assistant to the Attorney General, can be classified as a professional poli-

tician. He did publicity work in the Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover campaigns. In 1932 he and William Thompkins were members of the newly formed Negro division of the national Democratic committee, and in 1936 he was a delegate at large from Pennsylvania to the Democratic convention. He was also considered a member of the Democratic Big Four, which included, besides Vann and Thompkins, Julian Rainey of Massa-

chusetts and Dr. Joseph L. Johnson of Ohio. Vann soon re-

signed the position and returned to his duties as editor of the | Pittsburgh Courier; he has since jumped back on the Republican bandwagon. His position was subsequently held by Bertram Hamilton, who also resigned. The present appointee is William L. Houston, president of the Washington Bar Association, who has been assigned to the antitrust division. Ralph E. Mizelle received an appointment in the Post Office Department as assistant attorney, office of the solicitor. Mizelle, a New Yorker, has been connected with Tammany Hall. The appointees in the judicial sphere under President Roosevelt have been Armond W. Scott, who succeeded James A. Cobb as judge in the District Municipal Court, and William H. Hastie,

who was appointed a federal judge in the Virgin Islands. The

| latter position bids fair to become traditional, since upon Hastie’s resignation such a clamor was set up that another Neero was appointed as his successor. A study of the general background of the New Deal departmental appointees serves to throw some light on their experience and qualification for the positions which they now hold.? A cursory examination reveals that most of them have a strong educational background, received college training, and served as teachers or instructors. Most of them had no specific training for the position in which they are serving but received their experience in service. There should be no surprise at the absence of professional politicians among all except the traditional appointees, since these men were brought in to aid in solving racial problems and not as political patronage appointees. Even where political affiliation prior to the New Deal is found, as in the case of Mrs. Bethune, Forrester B. Washington, Eugene K. 3. Brief biographical sketches of eleven Negro appointees (p. 1444— 48 of the Bunche memorandum ) have been omitted. —ED.

630 THE POLITICAL STATUS OF THE NEGRO: A SURVEY

| Jones, and Charles E. Hall, the affiliation was Republican rather than Democratic.

In national prestige and in personal connection with high New Deal officials, Mary McLeod Bethune stands head and shoulders above the rest of the appointees. As a result she has become the guiding spirit of the higher Negro government officials and has been able to reconcile their petty contradictions and weld them into an informal unit, the Federal Council, popu-

larly called the “black cabinet.” The common concern of the appointees about the problems of the Negro brought them together, and the organization exists merely for the purpose of discussing that problem generally, and for the interchange of information. Mrs. Bethune is chairman, Dr. Robert C. Weaver is vice-chairman, and Dutton Ferguson is secretary. Meetings are monthly. The organization is quite informal and has no letterheads. It is not confined to those interested in policies and contains men concerned with the information service and with research. The appointees have been able to affect public sentiment through their various public relations, the most important revolving around the first and second National Conferences on the Problems of the Negro and Negro Youth. Again Mrs. Bethune took the leadership in the organizational work. The conferences were sponsored by the Division of Negro Affairs of the NYA, and Mrs. Bethune was the general chairman of both

conferences. The major subjects of the first conference were increased opportunity for employment and economic security; adequate educational and recreational facilities; improved health and housing conditions; and security of life and equal protection under the law. The second conference was devoted basically to the same problems and had as an additional objec- | tive that of determining the progress made since the first. The conferences were addressed by Mrs. Roosevelt and several high government officials. Negro officials functioned as consultants

to the various conference committees, and also presented the programs of their respective agencies as related to the Negro. Negro leaders from all walks of life were invited to the conferences in order to express their opinions in organized form and to draw up recommendations. The criticisms centered around the discrimination, inequality, and neglect attendant upon the application of certain government programs. The general failure to include adequate Negro personnel in administrative and. supervisory positions throughout the government was noted.

NEGROES AND THE NEW DEAL AGENCIES 631 But the conferences recognized the New Deal as being a great step forward in social progress, urging that these evils be removed in order that such progress not be retarded.* Both conferences sponsored by the Division of Negro Affairs of the NYA have viewed with alarm the decentralization policy which the Roosevelt administration is being forced to adopt because of Republican cries of “bureaucracy,” “dictatorship,” and “states rights.” The first conference stated: The Conference favors Federal as against State control of

Federal projects and recommends that where projects are turned over to State Committees for management, definite clauses against racial discrimination be written into the plans

for such projects before they become the property of State authorities. 4. For two recent studies of the Negro and the New Deal, see Raymond Wolters, Negroes and the Great Depression: The Problem of Economic Recovery (Westport, Conn., 1970), and Allen Francis Kifer, “The Negro under the New Deal, 1933-1941” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 1961).

BLANK PAGE

Bibliography

IN 1939 and 1940, when Ralph Bunche and his assistants were energetically searching for information for “The Political Status of the Negro,” they could find almost no scholarly works in print on

the role of the black man in politics, aside from several historical monographs. What, the reader of this book may ask, would they find if they were preparing a similar memorandum today? The

answer would depend in part on the chronological focus of their study, but whether they were concerned with the 1930s or with the 1970s, they could begin with an impressive array of books on the

Negro and race relations in the United States. This bibliography is intended to place Bunche’s memorandum on Negro politics in historical prespective by referring to a part of this extensive body of literature.

The bibliography is divided into two parts. Part One is a brief essay on some of the secondary works that deal with the Negro’s

place in the modern American political system or with related aspects of the political culture in the United States. Many of these

writings illuminate the questions and concerns that found expression in Bunche’s long report. Part Two is a classified listing of books and articles designed to serve as a handy reference tool for

readers who desire to go beyond the Bunche memorandum. The editor hopes that students, in particular, will find this book a useful place to begin original inquiries into the black experience in American political life, and that many of Bunche’s themes can be pursued in the relevant works cited below. It should be noted that this bibliography is far from exhaustive.

It includes little on slavery, for example, and its coverage of Southern history is limited. It concentrates on works that treat the Negro as a participant and as an issue in American politics since 633

634 BIBLIOGRAPHY the Civil War. The careful student will profit from consulting one or more of the following bibliographies: James M. McPherson et al., Blacks in America: Bibliographical Essays (Garden City, 1971 );

Elizabeth W. Miller and Mary L. Fisher, comps., The Negro in America: A Bibliography, 2d ed. rev. (Cambridge, Mass., 1970); Dorothy B. Porter, comp., A Working Bibliography on the Negro in

the United States (n.p., 1961); Erwin A. Salk, comp. and ed., A Layman’s Guide to Negro History, new ed. (New York, 1967); Erwin K. Welsch, ed., The Negro in the United States: A Research

: Guide (Bloomington, Ind., 1965); and James D. Graham, ed., “Negro Protests in America, 1900—1955: A Bibliographical Guide,” South Atlantic Quarterly, 62 (Winter 1968): 94-107. ParT ONE: BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ESSAY

In preparing “The Political Status of the Negro,” Ralph Bunche relied heavily upon two secondary sources, which he considered to be the best existing studies of recent Negro politics. One of these was Paul Lewinson’s Race, Class and Party: A History of Negro Suffrage and White Politics in the South (New York, 1932), a good

survey of the Negro’s experience as a voter and as a factor in Southern politics between the Civil War and 1930. The author made use of miscellaneous sources, including the responses to a suffrage questionnaire sent to a sample of Negro Southerners. The analyses of the effects of the disfranchisement amendments at the

turn of the century, of the nature of the restricted Negro participation in politics since that time, and of the circumstances under

which blacks could vote in a Southern community are still

instructive. Bunche confirmed many of Lewinson’s generalizations.

During the next few years, several other studies supplemented Lewinson’s work, including two books by William Alexander Mabry—Studies in the Disfranchisement of the Negro in the South (Durham, N. C., 1938) and The Negro in North Carolina Politics Since Reconstruction (Durham, N. C., 1940). Rayford W. Logan, The Attitude of the Southern White Press toward Negro Suffrage, 1932—1940 (Washington, D. C., 1940), is a convenient source of Southern newspaper opinion on the Negro’s political participation, the Democratic primary, and other aspects of the election process in the South. The other secondary work that proved especially useful to Bunche

was Harold F. Gosnell’s Negro Politicians: The Rise of Negro Politics in Chicago (Chicago, 1935). Gosnell’s book was a pioneer-

ing study of the rise of Negro politics in a great Northern city. It illuminates Chicago’s “Black Belt,” machine politics, the role of organized vice, and much else. For another early investigation of

Negro politics in Northern cities, see Edward H. Litchfield,

Political Behavior in a Metropolitan Community (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1941).

BIBLIOGRAPHY 635 Several books dealing with the Negro’s participation in politics appeared in the 1940s and early 1950s. The increasing political

strength of black Americans in the thirties and forties was the theme of Balance of Power: The Negro Vote (Garden City, N. Y., 1948), by Henry Lee Moon. The Negro vote, Moon maintained,

was “an important and sometimes decisive factor” in a dozen Northern states and in at least seventy-five congressional districts, making it more decisive in presidential elections than the Solid South! The powerful lily-white trend in the Republican party and the Negro’s steady shift toward the Democrats were scrutinized in Elbert Lee Tatum’s The Changed Political Thought of the Negro,

1915-1940 (New York, 1951), while the Communist party’s generally unsuccessful efforts to exploit the “Negro problem” in the United States were examined in a well-researched book by Wilson Record, The Negro and the Communist Party (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1951). Meanwhile, a major study of the Southern political process had been launched, culminating in the publication of Southern Politics in State and Nation (New York, 1949) by V. O. Key, Jr. In some

respects Key’s work represents the kind of analysis Bunche had wanted to undertake in 1940. The volume contains a state-by-state account of one-party politics; a discussion of the South’s political leadership on the national scene; an examination of the mechanisms and procedures of the one-party system; an analysis of the size and composition of the Southern electorate; and a consideration of the various restrictions on voting in the region. Although Key was

not much concerned with the Negro as a participant in Southern politics, he emphasized the black man’s historical and contemporary significance in the political affairs of the South, showing how race

and the position of the Negro dominated Southern politics and suppressed meaningful political divisions among Southerners. After more than twenty years, Key remains the starting point for any serious student of modern Southern politics. One of Key’s assistants, Alexander Heard, made his own contri-

bution in A Two-Party South? (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1952). Heard’s sprightly volume deals with several subjects not fully treated in : Southern Politics, including Southern Republicanism, the region’s incipient political realignment, and the activities and political role of the Negro. A section devoted to “the new Negro politics” contains chapters on the NAACP, the Progressive Voters’ Leagues, and bloc

voting. Another of Key’s staff members was Frederic D. Ogden, whose monograph The Poll Tax in the South (University, Ala.,

1958) is a thorough analysis of the origins, operation, and

movement for the repeal of a notorious disfranchising device. Ogden shows that while the ostensible purpose of the poll tax was the disfranchisement of Negroes, its practical effect was to deprive a host of white men of the ballot. Negroes were effectively disfran-

636 BIBLIOGRAPHY chised by other means, formal and informal, including the white

primary. “The Negro Voter in the South,” Journal of Negro Education 26 (Summer 1957): 213-431, is a useful historical survey and an analysis of current conditions in each of the eleven ex-Confederate states. Much light is shed on Southern politics in the 1950s by Numan V. Bartley, The Rise of Massive Resistance: Race and Politics in the South during the 1950’s (Baton Rouge, La., 1969), and Neil R. McMillen, The Citizens’ Council: Organized

Resistance to the Second Reconstruction (Urbana, Ill., 1971).

Among broad regional studies, mention should be made of William C. Havard, ed., The Changing Politics of the South (Baton Rouge, La., 1972), a collaborative effort to bring Key’s Southern Politics up to date. Some investigations of Negro politics concentrated on individual

Southern states. Using a large amount of Negro registration and voting participation data, Hugh D. Price sought, in The Negro and Southern Politics: A Chapter of Florida History (New York, 1957), to describe the Negro’s role as a voter and to measure the impact of black voting on Florida politics, with emphasis on the decade

following the invalidation of the white primary in 1944. The Negro’s political status from disfranchisement to the breakthrough

in the 1960s is traced in Andrew Buni’s The Negro in Virginia Politics, 1902-1965 (Charlottesville, Va., 1967).

By far the most comprehensive and exhaustive treatment of the Negro’s political involvement in the recent South is provided in

Negroes and the New Southern Politics (New York, 1966) by Donald R. Matthews and James W. Prothro. These political scientists attempt to describe the political activities of the South’s ten million adult Negroes, to explain why some Negroes partic-

ipate in Southern political life and others do not, to predict the future of Negro politics in the region, and to explore the probable consequences of these current and future activities for the South and its racial problems. The work is based on what its authors say is “perhaps the largest collection of systematic data on Negro political behavior ever compiled.” Some two thousand inhabitants of the eleven former Confederate states were interviewed, while a large body of social, economic, and political data was collected on

more than a thousand counties in the region. Four widely differing communities—Crayfish, Bright Leaf, Camellia, and Piedmont counties—were studied in detail. Among the findings were these: that the social and economic attributes of individual blacks are strongly related to the extent of their participation in civic life; that community as well as personal characteristics have a powerful influence on political participation (especially the percentage of Negroes in the population); that the varying political and legal climates among the Southern states are extremely important, as well as such factors as formal voter requirements,

BIBLIOGRAPHY 637 state factional systems, and the amount and kind of community racial organizations. In contrast to Bunche and Myrdal, Matthews and Prothro view the Negro church—an almost totally segregated institution—as the most likely “nonpolitical” agency to organize

and direct Negro political activity in the South. They conclude that Negroes and whites are dangerously divided on the major issues of Southern politics, that is, racial segregation. In the past this division was not a serious threat to democratic politics in the region, since Negroes had almost no political power. But now that Negroes are becoming politically active and powerful in the South, the system is coming under great strain. Harry Holloway is the author of another regional study of black politics, The Politics of the Southern Negro: From Exclusion to

Big City Organization (New York, 1969). Holloway presents a series of case studies to illustrate variations that occur in the emergence of Negro political participation within a society that was once strongly traditional but is now changing rapidly. In tracing the evolution of Negro political life between World War II and the mid-1960s, he examines a number of specific localities—in some cases the same communities described in the Bunche memorandum.

Macon County, Alabama, is one such community. See Bernard Taper, Gomillion versus Lightfoot: The Tuskegee Gerrymander Case (New York, 1962), for an account of a notorious instance of political discrimination against Macon County Negroes in the late 1950s. Another volume, Climbing Jacob’s Ladder: The Arrival of | Negroes in Southern Politics (New York, 1967), by Pat Watters and Reese Cleghorn, is primarily about the Southern Regional Council’s Voter Education Project and the registration campaigns of the 1960s. In one fascinating chapter the authors include excerpts from the field reports of voter registration workers in the VEP campaigns. These reports are especially interesting when compared with the interviews quoted in the Bunche memorandum. By using Durham, North Carolina, and Tuskegee, Alabama, as case studies, William R. Keech has explored the question whether equal

voting rights bring equal social and economic opportunities for blacks. The concrete benefits, he concludes in The Impact of Negro Voting: The Role of the Vote in the Quest for Equality (Chicago, 1968), are not altogether favorable. The franchise brings some successes, but in some areas of the public and private sectors it seems to have no discernible effect. Several field studies of community life by sociologists and polit-

ical scientists have focused on Negro leaders and organizations in

the South. One of the earliest and most influential of these was

Floyd Hunter’s Community Power Structure: A Study of Decision Makers (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1953), which contains a chapter on the power structure of the Negro subcommunity and its interaction with the larger community. An investigation of power and decision-

638 BIBLIOGRAPHY making in Durham is reported in M. Elaine Burgess’s Negro Leader-

ship in a Southern City (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1962). Burgess is interested in the nature, function, and effectiveness of Negro

leadership and its relation to the white leadership of the community as revealed in the movement toward the desegregation of schools and other public facilities in the late fifties. Still another community study, Daniel C. Thompson’s The Negro Leadership Class (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1963), focuses on New Orleans in

the 1940s and 1950s. It deals with the origins of Negro leaders, changing patterns of leadership, and the functions of black leaders

within and outside of the subcommunity. Lewis M. Killian and Charles M. Grigg have written a book with a broader setting which they call Racial Crisis in America: Leadership in Conflict (Engle-

wood Cliffs, N. J., 1964). They discuss the personalities and principles in the black politics of Southern cities.

Perhaps the most impressive attempt to demonstrate the utility

of the community as a context within which to analyze the location, structure, and function of political leadership is Everett Carll Ladd, Jr., Negro Political Leadership in the South (Ithaca,

N. Y., 1966). This volume is based on intensive research, including field work, in two cities: Greenville, South Carolina, and Winston-

Salem, North Carolina. Ladd describes the collapse of the old structure of accommodating leadership and the emergence of a new type of Negro leader. He analyzes the factors in these two communities that retard or facilitate the exercise of Negro political leadership, discusses the recruitment of Negro leaders and the styles of race leadership, and considers a variety of voting organizations.

Even as Ralph Bunche and his assistants were making their investigation, the South was being illuminated by other regional

studies. Some of the most notable of these studies were concerned

with particular communities, sometimes the same localities investigated by Bunche’s interviewers. Thus in Shadow of the Plantation (Chicago, 1934), Charles S. Johnson reported the results of an intensive survey of Negro life in Macon County, Alabama. The candid comments of the people studied—some six

hundred families—gave this work an extraordinarily human quality. Johnson’s Growing up in the Black Belt: Negro Youth in the Rural South (Washington, D. C., 1941) presents an intimate picture of personality development, race relations, and social attitudes through the eyes of Negro youths in eight Southern counties.

Greene County, Georgia, and Macon and Madison counties, Alabama—familiar names in the Bunche memorandum-—are included in the study. Another sociologist, Arthur F. Raper, made a comparative study of Greene and Macon counties, Georgia, which he described in Preface to Peasantry: A Tale of Two Black Belt Counties (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1936). On the basis of interviews,

BIBLIOGRAPHY 639 questionnaires, and extended visits, Raper examined every aspect of life in these two counties. In Tenants of the Almighty (New York, 1943), he extended his account of Greene County into the early 1940s. Together, these two books constitute one of the best case studies ever made of rural life in the South. A different kind of study, but one that throws light on the rural South in the 1930s and earlier, is Horace Mann Bond, Negro Education in Alabama: A Study in Cotton and Steel (Washington, D. C., 1939). In analyzing conditions in the Alabama black belt, Bond showed the methods of white domination, the Negro’s loss of power, and his subsequent political decline.

The South during the 1930s provided the setting for still other community studies by social scientists. Two of these were independent investigations of the same Mississippi town: Indianola. The first to be published was John Dollard’s Caste and Class in

a Southern Town (New Haven, 1937). Dollard, a Yale social psychologist, analyzed race relations in terms of the “gains” and “losses” which both Negroes and whites sustained at different levels

in the caste-class structure of the Southern community. A more adequate and well-rounded picture of Negro life in Indianola was drawn by Hortense Powdermaker in After Freedom: A Cultural Study of the Deep South (New York, 1939). A participant observer in this Delta town for a year during the early thirties, Powdermaker, a cultural anthropologist, wrote a vivid and searching account of Negro life and attitudes in “Cottonville.” An examination of social

class among both whites and Negroes in Natchez and Adams County, Mississippi, is described by Allison Davis, Burleigh B. Gardner, and Mary R. Gardner in Deep South: A Social Anthropological Study of Caste and Class (Chicago, 1941). Davis and his

associates employed a conceptual scheme for analyzing race relations in the South which viewed Negro-white dealings as organized by a color-caste system that shaped economic and political relations as well as family and kinship structures, and was itself reinforced by the legal system. It is interesting to compare these studies with David L. Cohn’s Where I Was Born and Raised (Boston, 1948), a nostalgic commentary on life and labor in the Mississippi Delta written from the perspective of Southern white paternalism.

Soon after World War II a series of empirical community studies was carried out under the direction of Professor John Gillin of the University of North Carolina. Using the approach of social

anthropology, these Field Studies in the Modern Culture of the South cast considerable light on racial practices and attitudes in the region at midcentury. In Plantation County (Chapel Hill, N. C..,

1951), Morton Rubin describes the social structure and cultural values of a black-belt community in Alabama. In portraying the major patterns of behavior, organization, thought, and feeling of

640 BIBLIOGRAPHY one type of Southern community, Rubin suggests how they are related together to form one variety of Southern culture. Blackways of Kent (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1955), by Hylan Lewis, is a report on Negro life in a small South Carolina mill town “from the inside.” In a companion study entitled Millways of Kent (Chapel Hill, N. C.,

1958), John Kenneth Morland concentrates on the white textile workers in the same Piedmont community. For a different project, see Wilmoth Annette Carter, The Urban Negro in the South (New York, 1961), a sociological study of Negro Main Street in Raleigh,

North Carolina. ,

The community studies were significant in part because of what they revealed about Southern attitudes and values. A diverse lot of other books is also noteworthy in this regard. The best beginning place is C. Vann Woodward’s splendid historical interpretation, The Strange Career of Jim Crow, 2d rev. ed. (New York, 1966), a

work that goes beyond the tracing of segregation practices. An analysis by a social scientist is Melvin M. Tumin’s Desegregation:

Resistance and Readiness (Princeton, 1958). On the basis of intensive interviews conducted in Guilford County, North Carolina, in the fall of 1956, Tumin makes a systematic analysis of white

attitudes toward Negroes and desegregation. Howard H. Quint, Profile in Black and White: A Frank Portrayal of South Carolina (Washington, 1958), explores the attitudes, ideas, and plans that maintained “a caste system of society” in one Southern state. Another analysis of racial attitudes is presented by Hugh Davis Graham in Crisis in Print: Desegregation and the Press in Ten-

nessee (Nashville, 1967), an imaginative study of editorial

opinion in a border state during the crucial decade following the Brown decision of 1954. Still another state is analyzed in James W. Silver’s Mississippi: The Closed Society (New York, 1964), a dev-

astating treatment of the forces that created and perpetuated the nation’s most impervious racial orthodoxy, and in Frederick M. Wirt’s Politics of Southern Equality: Law and Social Change in a Mississippi County (Chicago, 1970), an examination of the impact of civil rights legislation on one county. Finally, from among the numerous travel accounts that report on race relations in the South, one should not overlook the books by two perceptive Negro writers: Jay Saunders Redding’s No Day of Triumph (New York, 1942) and Carl Thomas Rowan’s South of Freedom (New York, 1952). There is as yet no counterpart to Matthews and Prothro’s Negroes and the New Southern Politics for other parts of the country. James Q. Wilson’s Negro Politics; The Search for Leadership (Glencoe, IIl.,

1960) is the most important work on the Negro in Northern politics to be published since Gosnell’s Negro Politicians. Concen-

trating on Chicago, but in the context of several large Northern cities, Wilson explores the state of Negro civic and _ political

BIBLIOGRAPHY 641 leadership, assesses its strength and effectiveness, and attempts to account for its weaknesses and conflicts. He argues that the structure and style of Negro politics in the metropolitian areas can best be understood as a response to the larger, white-dominated political

system of which they are a part. At the same time, he notes the consequences of the division and diversity within the black community itself. In classifying Negro leadership styles (“militant” versus “moderate”) and goals (“status” versus “welfare”), Wilson developed some useful analytic concepts. Other volumes dealing with Negro politics include Louis E. Lomax, The Negro Revolt

(New York, 1962); Benjamin Muse, The American Negro

Revolution: From Nonviolence to Black Power (Bloomington, Ind.,

1968); and Harry A. Bailey, Jr., ed., Negro Politics in America

(Columbus, Ohio, 1967). The first two deal with events and tendencies in the late fifties and the sixties. The third is an excellent collection of essays on the recent period designed to meet the need for an empirical and systematic explanation of Negro politics in the United States. The mounting interest in Afro-American history is evident in the

recent publication of several books on the Negro and the modern metropolis. Historians have begun to reconstruct the growth and development of Negro communities in the North since the Civil War. On New York City, for example, there are several complementary studies: Seth M. Scheiner, Negro Mecca: A History of the Negro in New York City, 1865-1920 (New York, 1965); Gilbert Osofsky, Harlem, The Making of a Ghetto: Negro New York, 1890—

1930 (New York, 1966); and Oscar Handlin, The Newcomers: Negroes and Puerto Ricans in a Changing Metropolis (Cambridge, Mass., 1959). Allan H. Spear’s Black Chicago: The Making of a

Negro Ghetto, 1890-1920 (Chicago, 1967) is an outstanding history with an excellent description of the growth of urban black institutions. For a good study of one significant episode in the experience of black Chicagoans, see William M. Tuttle, Jr., Race

Riot: Chicago in the Red Summer of 1919 (New York, 1970). Constance McLaughlin Green’s The Secret City: A History of Race Relations in the Nation’s Capital (Princeton, 1967), while narrowly

conceived, is informative on the situation in Washington. The manners, customs, and social position of Negroes in a small Northern city are discussed in Robert Austin Warner, New Haven Negroes: A Social History (New Haven, 1940). In commenting on scholarly investigations of American Negroes and the metropolis, the contributions of sociologists should not be overlooked. The pioneering sociological study was William E. B. Du Bois’ The Philadelphia Negro: A Social Study (Philadelphia, 1899). (Du Bois devoted one chapter to “Negro Suffrage.” ) But the classic study of urban Negro life is St. Clair Drake and Horace R. Cayton’s Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern

642 BIBLIOGRAPHY City, 2 vols., rev. ed. (New York, 1962), which combined the re-

search approaches of sociology and social anthropology. This brilliant and exhaustive survey of Chicago’s Negro community in the late 1930s reveals the increasingly rigid pattern of discrimination and segregation faced by black Chicagoans in the twentieth century. Nathan Glazer and Daniel Patrick Moynihan undertook a different kind of ethnic study in Beyond the Melting Pot: The Negroes, Puerto Ricans, Jews, Italians, and Irish of New York City (Cambridge, Mass., 1963). Glazer and Moynihan examine the differing levels of achievement of the city’s major ethnic groups in education; business, and politics. PART Two: CLASSIFIED LIST OF ADDITIONAL SOURCES

Black History and the Meaning of Race: General Works

Aptheker, Herbert. A Documentary History of the Negro People in the United States. New York, 1951. Bennett, Lerone, Jr. Before the Mayflower: A History of the Negro in America, 1619-1964. Rev. ed. Chicago, 1964.

Berry, Mary Frances. Black Resistance/White Law: A History of Constitutional Racism in America. New York, 1971.

Blaustein, Albert P., and Zangrando, Robert L., eds. Civil Rights and the American Negro: A Documentary History. New York, 1968.

Board of Education, City of New York. The Negro in American History. New York, 1964.

Boulware, Marcus H. The Oratory of Negro Leaders: 1900-1968. Westport, Conn., 1969.

Brisbane, Robert H. The Black Vanguard: Origins of the Negro Social Revolution, 1900-1960. Valley Forge, Pa., 1970. Brotz, Howard, ed. Negro Social and Political Thought, 1850-1920: Representative Texts. New York, 1966. Butcher, Margaret Just. The Negro in American Culture. New York, 1956.

Cruse, Harold. The Crisis of the Negro Intellectual. New York, 1967.

Curtis, James C., and Gould, Lewis L., eds. The Black Experience in America: Essays. Austin, Tex., 1970.

Degler, Carl N. Neither Black Nor White: Slavery and Race Relations in Brazil and the United States. New York, 1971. Dowd, Jerome. The Negro in American Life. New York, 1926.

Drimmer, Melvin, ed. Black History: A Reappraisal. Garden City, N. Y., 1968. Du Bois, William E. B. The Souls of Black Folk: Essays and Sketches. Chicago, 1903.

—_— —.. Black Folk, Then and Now: An Essay in the History and Sociology of the Negro Race, New York, 1939.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 643 Embree, Edwin Rogers. Brown America: The Story of a New Race. New York, 1931.

Eppse, Merl R. The Negro, Too, in American History. Nashville, 1938.

Foner, Eric, ed. America’s Black Past: A Reader in Afro-American History. New York, 1970.

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Essien-Udom, E. U. Black Nationalism: A Search for an Identity in America. Chicago, 1962. Garvey, Marcus. Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey. Ed. Amy Jacques-Garvey, 1923. New York, 1969. A reissue.

Grier, William H., and Cobbs, Price M. Black Rage. New York, 1968.

Hill, Roy L. Rhetoric of Racial Revolt. Denver, 1964. Killian, Lewis M. The Impossible Revolution? Black Power and the American Dream. New York, 1968. Lincoln, C. Eric. The Black Muslims in America. Boston, 1961. ———. The Negro Pilgrimage in America: The Coming of Age of the Black-Americans. Rev. ed. New York, 1969. Little, Malcolm, with the assistance of Alex Haley. The Autobiography of Malcolm X. New York, 1965. Lynch, Hollis R. Edward Wilmot Blyden: Pan Negro Patriot, 1832— 1912. New York, 1967.

Meier, August, et al., eds. Black Protest Thought in the Twentieth Century. 2nd ed. Indianapolis, 1971. Mphahlele, Ezekiel. The African Image. New York, 1962.

Redkey, Edwin S. Black Exodus: Black Nationalist and Back-toAfrica Movements, 1890—1910. New Haven, 1969. Ross, James Robert, ed. The War Within: Violence or Nonviolence in the Black Revolution. New York, 1971.

Rubenstein, Richard E. Rebels in Eden: Mass Political Violence in the United States. Boston, 1970.

Stone, Chuck. Black Political Power in America. Indianapolis, 1968. , Ulman, Victor. Martin R. Delany: The Beginnings of Black Nationalism. Boston, 1971. Wagstaff, Thomas. Black Power: The Radical Response to White America. Beverly Hills, Calif., 1969. Williams, Robert F. Negroes With Guns. New York, 1962.

Wright, Nathan. Black Power and Urban Unrest: Creative Possibilities. New York, 1967.

Index

Absentee ballots, 135, 145,147— Antilynching legislation, 40, 86,

48, 159, 165 117; Dyer bill, 117; Wagner—

Adams, C. J., 390 Van Nuys—Gavagan bill, 117 Adams, E, C. L., 427 Armstrong, Edward H., 480-81 Adkins, W. P., 497 Atkins, Harvey B., 580

Agricultural Adjustment Admin- Atkins, James, 614

istration (AAA), 610 Atlanta, Georgia, xxiv, 70, 300,

—AAA referenda, xxiv, /76— 485-86, 488, 490-91 77; educational program of, Atlanta Independent, 486 506-7; effect upon Negroes, Augusta, Georgia, 306—7, 415, 390, 515; Negro committee- O07, 066 men in, 511, 514; table, 508; Augusta Herald, 127

in Alabama, 509-12; in Austin, Louis, 552

Georgia, 512—14; in Missis- Austin, Texas, 467 sippi, 505; in South Carolina, Aycock, Charles B., 38 514

Alabama Power Company, 516 Bailey, Carl, 464

Allison, T. E., Jr., 451 Ball, William Watts, 79, 177,

American Dilemma: The Negro 193, 417

Problem and Modern Democ-_ Ballot marking. See Secret vot-

racy, An (Myrdal), xi—xii, ing

XXVii Baltimore, Maryland, 554

American Federation of Labor, Banks, B. A., 357

4, 501-2, 576 Barker, Oscar, 202

American Legion, 29, 132, 287, Barnes, Riley, 483

392 Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 249, American party system, 5, 7 315, 540, 557, 564 Anderson, Charles W., 469, 555 Battle, Homer, 292-93

Anderson, Henry W., 518 Beale Street, 494—97

669

670 INDEX Beard, Charles A., xxvi Burke County (Georgia) True

Beard, J. E., 547 Citizen, 194

Bearden, Bessye, 601 Bush, J. E., 554

Beaumont, Texas, 466, 557,566 Butler, J. R., 501 Bellinger, Charles, 74, 465-66 Butts, Charles, 442 Bellinger, Valmo, 131, 465-66, Byers, Sid, 456, 460

562 Byrd, Harry Flood, 24, 131, 357, Belsaw, Dr., 298 442, Bethune, Mary McLeod, 97, 422, 623-24, 630 Caldwell, Erskine, 42

Bilbo, Theodore G., 32, 114,206 Caliver, Ambrose, 627 Bingham, Barry, 41, 210, 331, Camp, Lawrence, 491

469 Carolina Times, 447

Birmingham, Alabama, 123-24, Carolina Tribune, 483 133-34, 175, 200, 230, 253-— Carter, James G., 628

62, 399, 478—79, 535, 567 Cashin, Dr. Newlyn, 297-98 Black, Hugo, 34, 40, 208, 382— Centerville (Alabama) Press,

84, 386 , 164—65, 342

Black Reconstruction (Du Bois), Chambers, “Mac,” 465

17 Charleston News and Courier, Blease, Coleman L., 32, 34 184, 193, 195, 417, 426, 523

Bledsoe, Harold, 586 Charleston, South Carolina, xix,

Blount, W. M., 555 128-29, 137, 156-57, 246— Blunt, John H., 554 47, 319, 529-23, 547, 550,

Bolin, Jane, 602 559-60, 565

Boone, Buford, 299 Charlotte, North Carolina, 448,

Booze, Mary, 539 567

Borah, William E., 184 Charlotte (North Carolina) ObBouhan, John J., 167 server, 550 Bourbons, Modern, 24, 128 Chattanooga News, 201, 356,

Bourbon Period, 19—20 455 Bowen, John J., 124 Chattanooga, Tennessee, 168, Bowen, Trevor, 608 327, 333, 455-60, 559, 568, “Brief and Tentative Analysis 270

of Negro Leadership, A” Chicago, Illinois, 90-91, 572—79

(Bunche ), 81n Chicago Bee, 577 |

Brier, “Jim,” 424 Chicago Broad Ax, 574 Bright, J. Fuller, 131 Chicago Defender, 577 “Bronze mayors,” 87 Church, Robert R., 197, 495, Brooks, Emma T., 130 498—99

Brooks, Joe, 554 Civil Service discrimination, Brown, Edgar G., 615 115-16

Brown, Nero, 428 | Clark, Kenneth B., xxix

Brown, Quintella, 443 Class feeling among Negroes, Brown, Roscoe, 627 84—86 Brown, Sterling, 614 Clement, Rufus E., 215 Brown, Walter, 528 Cleveland, Ohio, 579-84

Bruce, Dr., 551 Cocoa Cola Company, 26 Brunswick, Georgia, 415 Cohen, Benjamin, 206

Bryant, William J., ix Cohen, Walter L., 197

Bunche, Ralph J., xii, xv—xvi, Coke, H. D., 479

XXVi Collier, E. L., 487

INDEX 671 Columbia, South Carolina, 322, Davey, Martin, 582

425-27, 560 Davis, Benjamin, 197, 301, 403,

Columbia (South Carolina) 487, 498, 526, 529, 531

State, 417 Davis, Harry E., 579n, 580, 582

Commission on Interracial Co- Davis, James T., 506 operation, 70, 206, 421, 489, Davis, John P., 611

492 Davis, P. D., 478

Committee on the Study of the Davis, Thomas, 582

Capitation Tax as a Pre- Daytona Beach, Florida, 480—

Requisite to Voting, 358 82

Communist party, 87, 112, 492, Daytona Beach News Journal,

904, 563, 578-79, 583-84, 480

399 Demagogues, 7, 32-33, 58

“Conceptions and Ideologies Democracy, American, 9, 103—4

of the Negro’ Problem” Deshotel, John, 314-15 (Bunche), 34n, 42n Detroit, Michigan, 584—91 » Cone, Fred P., 198—99 Dewey, Thomas E., 604 Congress of Industrial Organiza- Diggs, Charles, 586

tions, 4, 183, 422, 576; polit- Disfranchisement of Negroes, ical action of, 164, 269, 373, 18-21, 31, 47, 228, 231 591; unpopularity of, 26,124, —methods used for: character

407-8, 494 witnesses, xxi, 21, 28, 51,

Connor, John, 554 284-85, 287; “eight box” law,

Coordinating Committee of the 417; “grandfather clause,” Citizens’ Fact Finding Move- 21, 49, 303; literacy tests, 20,

ment, 42, 416 49, 54, 220, 222-23, 227, 235, Couch, Frank, 481 268-69, 302, 304, 399, 450;

Corcoran, Thomas, 206 241, 248-49, 253, 259-62, County unit system (Georgia), poll tax, 20, 56-64, 293 (see

159-60 also Poll tax); precinct clubs,

“Courthouse gangs,” 27, 29, 49; property qualifications, 20,

121-22, 128 235, 254, 384, 388; registra-

Cracker party (Georgia), 126— tion periods, 20, 48; white pri-

27 mary, 21, 30—31, 78, 151-54,

Craigen, Joseph, 586 319, 402, 486. See also Regis-

Croker, Richard, 600 tration

Crum, William D., 197 Disfranchisement of poor Crump, Edward H., 73, 131, whites, 56, 59

495-502 Divine White Right (Bowen),

Culbertson, John, 361 608

Cummings, Thomas L., 461-62 Dixon, Frank, 229 Dobbs, John Wesley, 300, 488

Dabney, Virginius, 41, 210,212 Dokes, Joseph, 423

Dale, Bishop, 550 Douglass, Frederick, 14, 574 Daily Oklahoman, 471 Drummond, Ed, 299 .

Dallas, Texas, 95, 466, 557 Du Bois, William E. B., 17, 87,

Daniels, Jonathan, 41 96, 604

Daniels, Josephus, 483 Duckett, Mrs., 595, 597

Darden, Colgate W., Jr., 205, Duggan, I. W., 505-6, 509

442 Duke Power Company, 516

Darien, Georgia, xxiii, 303,404— Dungee, Roscoe, 469-71

5 Durham, North Carolina, 177,

672 INDEX Durham, North Carolina—Cont. Gavagan, Joseph A., 605

202, 315-17, 446-50, 550, George, Claybourne, 580

902-53, 559 George, Walter F., 206—7, 374,

Durham Sun, 316 402-3, 491

Georgia Power Company, 26,

Edwards, Charles W, 387 141, 406, 516

Election fraud, xvi—xvii, 53,124, Gerrymandering, 18, 90, 417,

161, 333, 548—49 474, 485, 585, 592,

Enrollment (South Carolina), Geyer Anti-Poll Tax bill, 41 — xvi, 49, 153, 156-57, 240, Gibbs, M. W., 554

242-45, 247, 322 Gibson, “Thad,” 428 Entrance fees, 172 Gillette, Guy, 334 Epps, Peter, 429 Glass, Carter, 24, 131, 357, 442

598 576groes, 105 |

Ethiopian World Federation, Gosnell, Harold F., 89, 572n,

Evans, Joseph H. B., 615 Government economy and NeFarley, James A., 88, 605 Grace, John P., 128, 247, 419

Fascism, 109-14 Graham, Frank P., 41, 215, 383

Faulkner, William, 42 Grant, David M., 591n, 593 Fausett, Arthur, 596-97 Graves, Bibb, 281

Federal Emergency Relief Ad- Green, John P., 579

ministration, 612-13 Green, Paul, 42

Federal Housing Administra- Greene County (Alabama)

tion, 106 Democrat, 389, 512 Fish, Bert, 480 Journal, 183 Fisher, H. G., 432 Greensboro, North Carolina, Federal Land Bank, 511 Greene, W. Cooper, 200 Ferguson, Dutton, 613, 630 Greensboro (Georgia) Herald

Fleming, Thomas W., 580 317, 449, 551, 559, 570

Fontenot, Paul, 314 Greenville, South Carolina, 50, Ford Motor Company, 587 75, 239

Foreign policy and Negroes, 105 Greenville (South Carolina) Foreman, Clark H., 206, 214, News, 196, 204, 422

618 Grigsby, J. B., 553

Franchise. See Voting in the Grigsby, Snow F., 589

South; Registration Grossman, Bill, 133, 457—58

Frank (Glenn) Committee, 88 Grovey v Townsend (1935), 30,

Frantz, Laurent, 493 108

Fuller, George, 301, 303 Fuller, T. O., 501

Hall, Charles E., 624-25, 630

Gadsden, Alabama, 135 Hall, N., 471

183 525

Gainesville, Georgia, 566 Hall, Mrs. Oscar, 488 Gainesville (Georgia) News, Hambright, J. C., 424, 519-20,

Gandy, J. C., 259 Hamilton, Bertram, 629

Garner, John Nance, 24, 77-78, Hamilton County (Tennessee )

131,575 Herald, 356

Garrison, Wesley E., 198-99 Hamilton, John D. M., 516 Garrison, William Lloyd, 14 Hamilton, Norman R., 205, 442,

Garvey, Marcus, 602—3 445

INDEX 673 Hampton, John, 277-78, 280 Ickes, Harold L., 98, 612, 618, Hampton, Wade, 417-18, 426, 620

522 Italian voters, 192

Handy, William C., 494

Harding, Warren G., 408, 536, Jackson, James, ix, xiii, 315,

. 538, 581 440, 502, 536, 539—40, 549 Harris, Henry, 479 Jackson, James A., 625 Harris, Julia Collier, 213-15 Jackson, John E., 540

Harris, Julian L., 213-14 Jackson, Marion E., 260-62

Harrison, Byron Patton (Pat), Jackson, Mississippi, 558, 564—

xii, 24, 207, 380, 434-35 65 Harrison, Carter, 574 Jackson (Mississippi) Daily

Hart, Sylvaneus, 310 News, 203 Hastie, William, 619, 629 Jackson, Wilhelmina, ix, xiii, Hawkins, Sam, 255 xxiii, xxviii, 127, 177, 317, Hays, Brooks, 40, 364, 381 370, 405, 427, 548, 550, 594

Haywood, C. A., 484 Jackson, Z. K., 281 Haywood, Fred, 554 Jacksonville, Florida, 197-98, Heard, Alexander, xxviii 452—53, 569

: 391 309

Heflin, J. Thomas, 32, 34, 195, Jacksonville (Florida) Journal,

Hefner, Robert, 471 James, “Bill,” 461

Helms, Clyde, 427 Jason, Mr., 596

Herndon, Angelo, 493 Jennings, Mrs. W .V., 444 Hibbler, John H., 463 Johns, Mrs. Samuel E., 443

Hicks, Jim, 128 Johnson, Clarence R., 621 449—51, 558 Johnson, Fred D., 204 Hill, James, 537 Johnson, James Weldon, 604 Hill, Lister, 40 Johnson, Joseph L., 629

High Point, North Carolina, Johnson, Dr., 444

Hill, T. Arnold, 614 Johnson, Mordecai, 623

Hillman, Sidney, 621 Johnson, Paul B., 203—4 Laborers’ Union, 458 Johnson, Watkins, 281

Hod Carriers and Common _ Johnson, Shelby, 274—76

Holsey, A. L., 506 Joint Committee on National

Holsey, W. J., 435 Recovery, 611

Hoover, Herbert, 36, 408, 415, Jones, B. A., 485n

526, 528, 534, 540, 575 Jones, “Buck,” 484 Horne, Frank S., 621, 623 Jones, Dewey R., 619

Hot Springs, Arkansas, 57, 332 Jones, Eugene K., 625, 629

Houchins, Joseph R., 625 Jones, John, 574

Houseal, W. B., 200 Jones, Nebraska, 501

Houston, Texas, 466, 553, 567 Jones, Sam Houston, 200

Houston, William L., 629 Jones, Thomas J., 626 Howard, Perry, 36, 81, 434, Jonesboro (Arkansas) Daily

498, 536-39 Tribune, 364

Hubbard, Buster, 427-28

Hudson, Hosea, 260 Kansas City, Kansas, 473, 563-—

Hunt, Henry A., 617 64, 570

Huntsville, Alabama, xxii, 274- Kansas City (Kansas) Call, 473

76 Kansas City, Missouri, 472-73,

Hutchins, George, 132 570

674 INDEX Keefe, Jack, 461 540; in Mississippi, 536-39;

Kefauver, Estes, 171 in Virginia, 518—20 Kelly, David, 281 Lincoln, Abraham, 13, 15

Kelly, Edward J., 575—76 Lincoln Independent Party, 544

Kelly, John, 596 Lincolnville, South Carolina,

Kelly, Samuel, 211 420-21

Kennedy, Sheriff, 390—91 Lipscomb, Cady, 290-92 Kennomer, Charles B., 401 Little Rock, Arkansas, 327, 365,

Kern, Luther, 450 | 554, 567

Key, V. O., xxviii Long, Earl K., 200

King, Cornelius, 617 Long, Huey P., 34, 193, 437

King, Lucile D., 138, 319—20 Long, Ocie, 478

Kirsky, Joe, 502 Louisiana Weekly, 200

Knoxville, Tennessee, 250, 460— Louisville Courier-Journal, 469

61, 543-44, 553, 560 Louisville, Kentucky, 467-69,

Kohn, Ben, 493 544, 553, 560

Ku Klux Klan, 7, 194, 469; de- Lowden, Frank O., 537-38 feat of, 281; influence of, 29, Lynch, John R., 537 99; intimidation by, 75, 95, Lynching, 116-17 204, 307-8, 320-21, 422,424, Lynd, Robert S., xi 451-52, 497; origins, 17

McAlpine, W. L., 478 McCall, Lucy, 255 Labor unions, 4, 44, 72—73, 149, McElroy, S. Russell, 255

458, 501-2, 576 McFall, Dr., 420

La Guardia, Fiorello, 602, 605—- McKinney, Clint, 479

6 Macon, Georgia, xxiv, 303-4,

Landon, Alfred M., 37 557, 566

Langston, John M., 15, 440 Macon Citizen-Georgian, 182

Lapham, J. Frank, 130 Mance, Dr., 426 Laugher, Johnny, 495 Mann, Harold, 466 Law, Watson, 317 Manning, Wyndham, 247 Lawrence, David, 195 Mardis, William A., 501

Lawson, Edward, Jr., 613 Marland, Ernest W., 470

League of Women Voters, 349, Marshall, Donald, 587

489 Martin, J. B., 499—500

League for White Supremacy Martin, Mary B., 581

(Alabama), 516 Martin, Willie, 450

Lee, George W., 499-500 Matthews, E. Z., 279-80

Lewinson, Paul, 21 . Maverick, Maury, 24, 40, 70, Lewis, J. L. (lawyer), 532-33 74, 130-31, 209-10, 466, ’ Lewis, John L., 380 562--63 Lewis, Leonard, 310 May, Robert H., 126 Liberty League, 37 Maybank, Burnet R., 129, 247

Lightner, George, 551 Memphis Press-Scimitar, 494

Lily-whiteism, 81-82; advan- Memphis, Tennessee, 55, 59, 73, tages to Negro, xxvii; impetus 493—502 in 1928, 36-37; in Alabama, Messervy, Mrs., 519-20

272, 536; in Arkansas, 462; Methodist Episcopal Church,

in Georgia, 405, 415, 525, South, 42

487, 491, 528-30, 532; in Miami, Florida, 55, 174, 198— Kentucky, 544; in Louisiana, 200, 307, 451-52, 557, 569

INDEX 675 Miami Herald, 199-200, 308-9 Saint Louis, 593; in South

Miami Life, 198-99 Carolina, 419, 421; in Tampa, Mill workers, 183, 191-92, 227, 311-12: 1939 convention of,

341, 343, 345 77-78, 212 Miller, E. A., 507—9 National Conferences on the Miller, John E., 464 Problems of the Negro and Miller, Ray T., 582 Negro Youth, 630-31 Milton, George Fort, 455 National Industrial League, 611 Mitchell, Arthur W., 576 National Lobby Committee, 100 Mizelle, Ralph E., 629 National Negro Congress, 595— Mobile, Alabama, 298-99, 477— 96, 598, 611

78, 556 National Negro Health Week, Mollison, M. E., 537 627

Montezuma Georgian, 193 National Urban League, 489, Montgomery Advertiser, 338 093, 605 Montgomery, Alabama, xxii, Nazism, 109-13 985-87, 400—401, 556 Negro American, The (Parsons Montgomery, Isaiah T., 436 and Clark), xxix Moon, Henry Lee, 621 Negro church, 92—93, 490, 501,

Moore, Fred R., 602 507, 576-77, 592-93, 599 Morris, A. M., 525 Negro communities, 22-23,

Morton, Ferdinand Q., 193, 601 491-22

Mosley, L. T., 537 Negro leadership, 7, 12, 16, 85—

Moton, Robert R., 627 86

Moton, Mrs. Robert R., 506 Negro officeholding, 94-100; in

Muldihill, M. J., 537-38 Census Bureau, 624-25; in

Mundy, Otis, 451 Civilian Conservation Corps,

Municipal elections, 74, 89-91, 615; in Department of Labor, 9239, 245-46, 442-45, 455, 625-26; in Farm Credit Ad-

477—78, 490-502 ministration, 617-18; in

Municipal government: Negro Farm Security Administra-

jobholders in, 467, 496, 555— tion, 615-17; in National Re-

56; Negro officeholders in, covery Administration, 608, 547-55; and public services 611; in National Youth Ad-

for Negroes, 565—71 ministration, 98, 623-24; in Murphy, Charles F., 601 620-22; in United States Murchison, John P., 612, 619 Public Works Administration,

Murphy, Frank, 255, 586, 590 Housing Authority, 98-99,

Murray, M. M., 554 619-23; in United States Of-

Murray, William H. (“Alfalfa fice of Education, 626-27; in

Bill”), 470 United States Public Health

Myrdal, Gunnar, xi—xii, xxvn, Service, 627-28 xxvi, 207n, 302, 394n, 593 Negro political and civic associations, 156, 173, 438, 487, 582,

Nail, John A., 600—601 587; Alabama Federation of Nashville, Tennessee, 327, 461— Colored Civic Leagues, 478;

62, 548, 570 Arkansas Negro Democratic

National Association for the Ad- Association, 462; Atlanta vancement of Colored People Civic and Political League, (NAACP), 489, 492; accusa- 300, 488, 490; Bexar County tions against, 55, 254; in Kan- Educational League, 70; Civic

sas City, 564, 598, 604—5; in and Welfare Club (Ports-

676 INDEX Negro political—Cont. Negro Politics in Chicago mouth), 325; Civic League (Gosnell), 89

(Tuscaloosa), 273; Detroit Negro population, 103, 572

Civic Rights Committee, 589; Negro press, 577, 588 Glenville Civic and Progres- Negro vote sive League (Cleveland ),582; —in Alabama, 270-71, 387— Laboring Man’s Protective As- 401; Bibb County, 399; Bir-

sociation (Beaumont), 466; mingham, 399; Cullman League of Negro Voters County, 400; Dallas County, (Petersburg), 324-25, 446; 389-91; Etowah County,

Little Rock Civic Association, 387-88; Greene County, 388—

327; Negro Citizens’ Voters 89; Hale County, 389; Lee League (Newport News), County, 391; Macon County, 325-26; Negro Civic Alliance 392-96; Madison County, of Saint Augustine, 310-11; 396-99; Marengo County,

Negro Civic and Improvement 389; Montgomery, 400-401;

League, Inc. (Montgomery), Tuscaloosa, 270-71; Tusca285; Negro Democratic Club loosa County, 387 (Memphis), 500; Negro Dem- -—in Arkansas, 462—64

ocratic Council (Alabama), —in Florida, 71, 451-54; Jack-

479; Negro Non-Partisan sonville, 452-53; Miami,

League (Birmingham), 478; 451-52; Tampa, 454 Negro Progressive Voters —in Georgia, 401-16; Augusta, League (Dallas), 70, 466; 415; Bibb County, 404; BrunsNegro Republican Club (Dade wick, 415; Burke County, County, Florida), 308; Negro 404; Chatham County, 403Voters League (Tampa), 4; Dougherty County, 407— 454; North Carolina Commit- 8; Greene County, 411-12; tee on Negro Affairs, 315— Hall County, 413-14; MclIn. 16; Ohio State Negro Demo- tosh County, 404; Macon

cratic League, 582; Orange County, 410-11; Putnam County Tax Payers’ and County, 409-10; Ware Voters’ League (Florida), County, 406—7 311; Richmond Democratic —in Kansas, 473

League, 71, 438; South Caro- -—in Kentucky, 467—69

lina League for Progressive —in Louisiana, 436—37 Democracy, 423; South Side —in Maryland, 473

Negro Democratic Club -—in Mississippi, 434-36 (Birmingham), 479; Tulsa —in Missouri, 472-73 County Citizenship Council, -—-in North Carolina, 446-50; 326; Urban League (New Or- Charlotte, 448; Durham, 446—

leans), 312; Wayne County 47; Greensboro, 449; High (Michigan) Voters Districts Point, 449-50; Reidsville, Association, 587; Woman’s 451; Statesville, 451; WinCivic Club (Atlanta), 488; ston-Salem, 448

Young Men’s Civic Club (Sa- —in Oklahoma, 327, 469—72 vannah), 301; Young Men’s -—Zjin South Carolina, 416-34;

Republican Club of Georgia, Beaufort County, 431-32; 487, 489; Young People’s Charleston County, 419-21; Civic and Progressive League Columbia, 425-27; Green-

(Cleveland), 582 ville County, 421-24; Orange-

Negro Politicians: The Rise of burg County, 434; Pickens

INDEX 677 County, 432-33; Saluda Overton, Watkins, 494 County, 429-31; Sumter Owens, Mayor, 425

County, 425 Owens, Mrs. Joshua, 290

—in Tennessee, 454-62; Chat- Oxley, Lawrence A., 625—26

tanooga, 455-60; Hamilton County, 458-59; Knoxville, Paige, Myles, 602 460-61; Nashville, 461-62 Park, Orville A., 416 —in Texas, 464-67; Austin, Parsons, Talcott, xxix 467; Beaumont, 466; Dallas, Patrick, Luther, 170 466-67; Houston, 466; San Payne, Fred, 459

Antonio, 464—66 Pendergast, Tom, 472—73 field County, 438, 440-41; (Frantz), 493

—in Virginia, 438—46; Chester- People’s Rights in Memphis Newport News, 445; Norfolk, Pepper, Claude, 40

441; Petersburg, 445-46; Petersburg, Virginia, 324—25, Portsmouth, 441-45; Rich- 445—46

mond, 438 Peterson, J., 260

—in West Virginia, 473 Pew, Joe, 596

Negro voters: age of, 86; apathy Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 594

of, 52, 83-84, 404, 486; con- —99 servatism of, 86, 583; in- Philadelphia Record, 596 crease in registration of, 72; Philadelphia Tribune, 596

number of, 50, 54, 69; white Phillips, Leon C., 470 fear of, xxiii, 53, 55, 75, 328, Phol, Bill, 448 339, 347, 351, 354, 374, 389. Pickens County (South Caro-

See also AAA referenda. lina) Sentinel, 524-25

Negro voting: Black symbolism Pinchback, P. B.S.,15

in, 87; in blocs, 93; in bond Pitman, Carrie, 488 elections, 70, 300, 441, 446, Police treatment of Negroes,

452-53, 479, 488, 490-91; 499-95, 499-500

post—Civil War, 18; pre—Civil Political machines, 6, 28-29,

War, 13 79; and poll tax, 57, 332, 335,

New Deal, xxii, xxix, 8, 93, 97, 356; in Hamilton County 115, 412, 418, 468, 608-31. (Tennessee), 132-33, 335;

See also Negro officeholding in Memphis, 73, 494—502; in

New Orleans, Louisiana, 248, Philadelphia, 594; in Savan-

312—14, 540 nah, 124—25

Newport News, Virginia, 323-— Political party emblems, 154

25, 445, 553, 559 “Political Status of the Negro,

New York, New York, 599-606 The” (Bunche), xii—xiii, xv— Non-Partisan League (Labor's), Xvi, XXV, XXVii—xxix

344 Political status of the Negro. 552, 556, 568 cities Norris, J., 596 —in Alabama counties: Bibb,

Norfolk, Virginia, 324, 441, See also names of various Norwood, George, 424, 523 XViii, 123, 148, 164, 169, 221—

23, 273-74, 341—42, 399, 509;

Ohio Democrat, 582 Bullock, 283-84; Chilton,

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, 471, 535; Clarke, 338; Coffee, xvii,

553, 561 Xxi, 121, 223, 288, 340, 510;

Oklahoma City Times, 471 Cullman, 134, 149, 185—91,

Orlando, Florida, 311 225-26, 297-98, 338, 346—

678 INDEX Political Status—Cont. —in Mississippi counties: Bol47, 400, 534; Dallas, 121, ivar, 505; Warren, 539

226, 289, 389-91, 536; De- —in North Carolina: MecklenKalb, 534; Etowah, 134, 161, burg County, 318-19 175, 223-25, 290-96, 339, —in South Carolina counties: 387—88, 512, 535-36; Greene, Beaufort, xvii, 130, 145, 171,

xiv, 122, 170, 388-89, 535; 242-45, 361-63, 431-32, 514, Hale, 226, 289-90, 389, 511; 524; Charleston, 360, 419— Jefferson, 48, 149, 155, 170, 21; Greenville, 137, 143, 146,

218, 228-31, 265-67, 348- 238, 319-22, 361, 421-24; 49: Lee, xvii, xx, 122, 134, Orangeburg, 434, 525; Pick161, 192, 227-28, 345, 391, ens, 135-36, 146, 239, 323, 510; Lowndes, 122; Macon, 359-60, 432~—33; Saluda, 137,

XxX—xXxi, 56, 122, 161, 228, 144-45, 240-41, 363-64, 281-83, 345-46, 392-96, 510, 429—31, 514, 524; Sumter, 536; Madison, xviii, 123, 147, 136, 146, 172, 240, 322, 363,

149-51, 162-63, 170, 185, 495, 521-22

195, 216-21, 276-81, 342, —in Tennessee counties: David344—45, 396-99, 533-34; son, 327; Hamilton, xix, xxiv,

Marengo, 134, 389, 512; 132-33, 139, 249-50, 335,

Montgomery, 284-88, 333-— 350-56, 458-59, 541-42 34, 338, 533; Peyton, 165; —in £Virginia: Chesterfield Randolph, 281; Tuscaloosa, County, 438, 440-41 923, 387, 536; Winston, 533 Polk, J. E., 316 —in Florida: Duval County, Poll tax: and labor unions, 336;

xxiv, 309—10 and mill workers, 341, 343,

—in Georgia counties: Bibb, 345, 359; and poor whites, 128, 304, 404; Burke, 128, 378; and Republican party, 139, 176, 231, 304, 379-80, 335; and white supremacy, 404, 514, 529; Chatham, xvi, 380; and women voters, 61, 124—26, 140, 172, 233, 371- 176; 191, 346, 363, 372; 72, 403-4, 527-28; Dough- check-off system, 334; exemperty, xx, 323, 375-76, 407-8, tions, 342—43, 353, 363, 372; 530—31; Fannin, 527; Greene, map, 330; repeal arguments,

xviii, xxii, xxv, 141, 172, 205, 380—83; revenue use, 58, 61— 234, 305-6, 370—71, 411-12, 62, 362—63, 365, 380; in Ala-

512; Hall, xxv, 139, 142, 166, bama, xviii, 62, 123, 328,

176, 236-37, 305, 365, 367— 330-31, 336, 338—48, 381; in

69, 413-14, 513, 527; John- Arkansas, 61, 328, 330-31,

son, 140, 160, 165, 167-68, 336, 364—65, 380; in Florida, 171, 231-32, 306, 369-70, 63, 307, 328, 331; in Georgia, 530; McIntosh, 138, 141, 168, xviii, 141, 328, 330-31, 365— 176, 233, 374-75, 404; Ma- 81: in Louisiana, 247—48; in con, xvii, 232, 372-74, 410— Mississippi, 328, 330-31, 380, 11, 513; Newton, xxi, 366; 435; in North Carolina, 62— Putnam, xiv, xxiii, 159, 238, 63, 328, 330; in South Caro-

376—77, 409-10, 513, 526- lina, Xix, 62, 328, 330-31,

27; Richmond, 126—27, 370; 336, 359-64, 380—81; in TenWare, xxiv, 141, 168, 182, nessee, xix, 328, 330—31, 335, 233, 307, 378—79, 406—7, 530 350-56, 381; in Texas, 328, —in Louisiana: St. Landry Par- 330; in Virginia, 62, 328, 330—

ish, 314-15 31, 336, 357-58, 381, 438

INDEX 679 Polling places (nature of), 222 Mississippi, 249, 326; in North

Populism, 5, 18—20 Carolina, 249, 315-19, 450-

Portsmouth, Virginia, 325, 441— 51; in Oklahoma (Tulsa),

45, 559 326; in South Carolina cities,

Presidential elections: 1928, 33, 246-47, 319, 322; in South

35, 193-97, 463-64, 534; Carolina counties, 238-45, 1932, 575, 608; 1936, 33, 37, 319-23; in Tennessee, 249— 71, 520, 581, 610; 1940, 88, 50, 327; in Virginia, 323—25,

92,, 516, 520 449-43

Price, H. H., 440 Registration irregularities, 140— Price, James H., 131, 442 41, 144, 149, 168 Primaries, 30, 115. See also Dis- Registration officials, 27, 48

franchisement of Negroes: Reid, Arthur, 450

white primary Reid, Thomas, 445

“Programs, Ideologies, Tactics, Reidsville, North Carolina, 451 and Achievements of Negro “Report on the Needs of the NeBetterment and Interracial Or- gro’ (Bunche), 88n ganizations, The’ (Bunche), Republican party, 8, 14, 35, 37,

71n, 300n, 308n, 316n, 324n, 81-82, 105-6; Negro shift

327n away from, 8, 92, 408, 425, Purging of voter lists, 218-19, 448, 461, 468, 471-72, 519, 929-93, 225-26, 230, 236-37 522, 575, 581, 590, 592, 602; Northern Negroes and, 574; Quin, C. K., 130-31, 465, 562— patronage, 543; in Alabama,

63 516, 518, 533-36; in Florida, 532-33, 453-54; in Georgia, 408, 486, 526-32; in Ken-

Race, Class and Party (Lewin- tucky, 544; in Louisiana, 540—

son), 21 41; in Michigan, 586; in Mis-

Rainey, Julian, 629 sissippi, 536-40; in North

Raleigh, North Carolina, 249, Carolina, 519; in South Caro-

489-84, 551, 553, 558 lina, 519-26; in Tennessee, and Observer, 483 Reynolds, R. J., 141

Raleigh (North Carolina) News 541-44; in Virginia, 518

Raper, Arthur F., 214, 421 Reynolds, Roy, 459

Reading (Philadelphia politi- Rhodes, Eugene, 596

cian ), 595-96 Richmond, Virginia, 324, 438,

Reconstruction period, 15-16, 556

96 Rilie, Charlie, 549

Redmond, S. D., 435, 536-39, Rivers, Eurith D., 124, 194

064 Rivers, Francis, 602

Registration: in Alabama cities, Roberts, Oscar, 259 230, 253-62, 2770-76, 298— Robertson, J. B., 470 99;in Alabama counties,216— Robinson, J. M., 462, 554 31, 265-69, 273-74, 276-98, Robinson, Joseph T., 463-64

398; in Arkansas (Little Robinson, Walter, 201-2, 456— Rock), 327; in Florida cities, 58, 460 309-12, 454; in Georgia cit- Rodgers, L. L., 582

ies, 300-307; in Georgia Romeo, A. M., 255 counties, 231-34, 236-38, Roper, Daniel C., 625

304—7; in Louisiana, 248-49, Roosevelt, Eleanor, 33, 88, 97,

312-15; in Michigan, 589; in 380, 613, 630

680 INDEX Roosevelt, Franklin D.: and poll Smith, Ellison D., 32, 34, 58, tax, 380—81; liberal leadership 202, 428-29, 506 of, 43, 608; Negro support of, Sneed, Edward, 576 80, 82, 322, 412, 425, 427, Socialist party, 583, 599 460, 521, 527, 541, 575, 581; Solid South, 10, 12 and 1938 purge, 206; white Solomon, Lewis, 532 Southerner’s dislike of, 182; Solomon, Samuel B., 199, 307—

mentioned, 15, 82, 410, 462, 8, 452, 532

585 Solomon, T. R., 584n

Rosenwald Fund, 558 Somerville, C. C., 444 Rowlett, Cecil, 590 Southern campaigns, 35, 169—

Roxborough, Charles A., 586 71

74, 523 27

Rule 32 (South Carolina), 173— Southern classes, 10, 14, 19, 26— Southern Conference for Human

Saint Augustine, Florida, 310- Welfare, 41—42, 56, 200, 213,

11, 560 380, 387, 489

94 ship, 43

Saint Louis, Missouri, 570,591— Southern Congressional leader-

Saint Petersburg, Florida, 311 Southern legislators, 33-34, 173 San Antonio, Texas, 70, 73, Southern liberalism, xxvii, 38— 130—31, 464-66, 562-63, 569 42, Savannah, Georgia, 124-25, Southern liberals, 209-15

140, 301-3 Southern Negro Youth Congress,

Savannah Morning News, 194 263

Saunders, Mrs., 450—51 Southern oligarchy, xxvi, 24—25,

Scannell, John, 600 334, 380-81

Scott, Armond W., 629 Southern Tenant Farmers’ Un-

Scottsboro case, 297, 388, 395 ion, 501 Sea Islands, Georgia, 421 Southern Women’s Committee Secret ballot, xvii, 28; in Ala- for the Prevention of Lynchbama, 134—35, 149: in Geor- ing, 214

gia, 138-39, 140, 168, 182; in Spartanburg, South Carolina, 75

South Carolina, 135-36, 137, Sperry, William, 628 145, 243, 521-22; in Tennes- Statesboro, Georgia, 304—5, 529

see, 139 Statesville, North Carolina, 451

Sectional interests, 5 Stevens, George, 413-14 Senate Special Elections Com- Stevens, Thaddeus, 15 mittee, 57, 334 Stoney, George C., ix, xiii—xiv, Sepia Socialite, 200 50, 121, 143-45, 160, 166, Shepard, Reverend, 595 182, 219, 273, 276, 284, 302, Shinault, J. C., 294 332, 368, 376, 387n, 399, 417,

Sholtz, David, 481 456n, 509, 519

Shores, Arthur D., 254—56, 264, Stoney, Thomas, 129, 247, 418

266n | Story of the Church Life among

Slavery, 12 Negroes in Memphis, Tennes-

Small, Robert, 417 see, The (Fuller), 501 Smith, Afred E., 613 Strauder v West Virginia Smith, Alfred E., 36, 193-96, (1880), 108

463-64 Streator, George, 599n, 601

Smith, Charles, 580 Stribling, T. S., 42 Smith, Dr., 283-84 Strong, Edward, 556n

INDEX 681 Suffrage. See Voting in the Vann, Robert L., 629

South; Registration Vardaman, James K., 32

Sumner, Charles, 15 Vice rings, 57, 90, 332—33, 457— Sumter (South Carolina) Item, 08, 465, 576, 593, 604

425 Vicksburg, Mississippi, 326 Virginia Southern Planter, 358, Taft, Robert A., 57 382 Talmadge, Eugene, 124, 159, Vote buying, 28, 57, 86; in Ala-

373-74, 527 bama, xviii, 161-62, 164,

Tammany Hall, 600-602 343; in Chattanooga, 355,

Tampa, Florida, 130, 200, 311- 456—57, 460; in Georgia, 126,

12, 454, 532, 557 165, 167-68; in Memphis,

Tampa Tribune, 454 497; in South Carolina, 145 Taylor, Arthur L., 582-83 Voting in the South: analysis of,

Tennessee Coal and Iron Com- 66; nature of, 27, 64-66, 1'75—-

pany, 26 78; table (Alabama), 65. See

Tennessee Valley Authority, also Negro voting; Women

106, 354, 457 voters

Texas primary law, 30, 152 Textile Workers Union of Amer- Wages and Hours Law, 206, 387

ica, 146, 149, 191, 423-24 Walker, J. E., 500

Thomas, Elmer, 4770 Walker, James J., 602, 605

75 417

Thompkins, William, 628—29 Waller, Buck, 447 Thompson, M. Hugh, 316, 553 Walton, Lester A., 628

Thompson, William Hale, 574— Ward clubs, 146, 153, 240, 247,

Thorpe, Reverend, 551 Ward, William, 587

Tillman, Benjamin, 418 Washington, Booker T., 22, 89,

Tobin, John G., 464 502,

Tolbert, Joseph W., 322, 417, Washington, D. C., 77

4924—25, 430, 519-23 Washington, Forrester B., 613,

Towers, William, 555 629

Traynor, Mrs. F. W., 309 Washington, Milton, 428 Trent, William J., Jr., 619 Watkins, Tom, 502 Tucker, C. Eubank, 468 Weaver, Robert C., 611, 618—22, Tulsa, Oklahoma, 326-27, 471-— 630

72,, 561-62 Wells, A. S., 95

Tureaud, A. P., 313-14 Wells, A. W., 326

Tuscaloosa, Alabama, 270—73 West, James C., 442

Tuskegee, Alabama, xx, 510 West, Mabel Jones, 516

Tuskegee Institute, xx, 56, 281— Wharton, Clifford R., 628

83, 345, 392-96 Whelchel, B. Frank, 166

Tuskegee Negro Conference, Whitaker, Pat, 130

610 White attitudes: toward inter-

Two-party system, 78 marriage, 212, 214; toward Negro officeholders, 196—98;

United Mine Workers, 72, 265, toward Negro voting, 192—93,

269, 473 288-89, 396-97, 399, 401, University of North Carolina, 41 410, 413, 430; toward poll tax, 186, 188-91; (of poor

Vance, Rupert B., xi whites ), 186—92; toward poor Van Deusen, John G., 610 whites, 183; voter apathy, 181

682 INDEX White, D. L., 479—80 Women voters, 61, 142, 175—76, White supremacy, 207-8. See 186, 190, 225

also White attitudes Wood, Leonard, 538 White, Walter, 78 Woodside, South Carolina, 191 Whitehair, Francis P., 480 Workers’ Alliance of America, Whitted, Harold H., 628 422-23, 501, 576 Whitten, John W., 611 Works Progress Administration, Wilhite, David D., 555 58, 123, 564, 567, 613-14 Wilkins, Josephine, 301 Wright, E., 596 Williams, B. Z., 454 Wrightsville (Georgia) Head-

Williams, John, 525 light, 370 Williams, M., 197

Williams, Mat, 344 Yancy, L. L., 580

Williams, Sidney, 591n, 593 Yates, Archie, 282

Williamson, Carl, 484 Yates, Mrs. C. R, 487 Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Young, Charles, 584 317-18, 448, 551, 569 Young, Ivey, 462 DEWEY W. GRANTHAM, professor of history at Vanderbilt

University and a former president of the Southern Historical Association, is a specialist in twentieth-century United States history. He is the author of Hoke Smith and the Politics of the

New South, The Democratic South, and The United States since 1945. He is the editor of three historical studies, including Ray Stannard Baker’s classic Following the Color Line. [1973]